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that-one-girl2020 · 2 days ago

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Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 3

A/N: Wow. Okay this got a lot more attention than I expected it to in three days. Sorry this part took me a little longer to write but it has one-on-one interactions with each member, that’s why it’s longer than the other parts.

Also, sorry but I’ve reached the maximum number of mentions I can have in the tag list so the tag list is closed!

By majority vote, I will be giving the Saja Boys Korean names so depending on the situation and point of view, they’ll either be referred to as their stage names or their Korean names.

If you guys have any ideas for outtakes, leave them in the comments below!

TW: I needed some way for the reader’s stress to manifest, like how Rumi struggles to sing as the pattern progresses. This manifested as a form of self mutilation, mostly just scratching when stressed or anxious. Insecurity and self deprecating thoughts ahead as well!

Word Count: 6,388

Baby: Jum (king)

Romance: Chungae (noble and love)

Mystery: Hyeon (virtuous, worthy, able)

Abby: Kwan (one who is strong)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

The four boys knew that they had to talk to Jinu about what they found out about (Y/n) and, by default, her sister the hunter. But, they were summoned by Gwi Ma before they had a chance to. They appeared in the middle of a crowd of cheering demons so the boys fell into their idol personas, smiling and pandering to the crowd.

They couldn’t help how their chests clenched when Gwi Ma forced them back into their demon forms.

And then Jinu joined them, standing at the top of the mountain before Gwi Ma’s fire. “One of the Hunters and her sister bears my mark, but I have no control over them.”

The four boys shared looks with each other out of the corners of their eyes. Gwi Ma was in their heads, of course he already knew.

“That’s good. This means that they have shame. We’ll find out what it is and we can use it to destroy the Hunters for good,” Jinu plotted with a sly smirk.

“I’ve taught you well, Jinu.”

Gwi Ma dismissed the five boys back to the human world and they popped to the place they shared. “Hey, boss, we should talk about what we’re gonna do.”

The five spread across the living area, Kwan laying across the couch as Chungae picked up his legs so he could sit before replacing Kwan legs.

Jum sat on the ground, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t care but his eyes kept glancing up and around at the others.

Hyeon sat on the arm of the couch, picking at his lip even though he shouldn’t. It was hard to get used to not having his tusks anymore… It’s kinda become a tick at this point.

Jinu stood in front of them, “We need to find out what shame the Hunter and her sister have. To do that, we need to get close to them, make them comfortable around us.”

“You’ve had the most interaction with the Hunter, right? So she’ll be more open to you I think,” Chungae mused thoughtfully.

“But, there isn’t just one of us that the sister has spent more time with,” Jum pointed out.

None of the boys wanted to admit that they each knew your name, it would mean admitting that you had caught at least a little bit of their attention, enough to remember you.

“Well, I was the one that carried her tonight,” Chungae flipped his hair, smiling smugly.

“Hey hey, I was the one she was flirting with during the fight. And she was eyeing my abs so I should talk to her,” Kwan crossed his arms, nudging Chungae’s stomach with his foot.

“I was the one who won the spicy challenge, I feel like I should be the one to get close to her,” Jum added his own input.

Hyeon wanted to add his own argument but he didn’t think knowing your scent would really go in his favor… But his jaw itched to sink his teeth into your skin. Gently! He just wanted to bite you… affectionately…

Jinu pinched the bridge of his nose. He could see where the four were coming from and he was a bit disappointed that he already had the role of getting close to the Hunter but he couldn’t do anything about it. You were so cute when you were flustered too…

“You can all take a try at it, it’s four chances of her opening up to one of you so it should be fine. Just don’t overwhelm her or it’ll look sketchy,” Jinu told them. He dug through the stationary they had around, writing out a note for Derpy and his bird friend to deliver to the Hunter.

“I’m heading out.”

~~~

‘Was it bad that you were glad the girls hadn’t caught up to the Saja Boys…?’

You had run back to the Huntr/x tower, looking ridiculous with your arms inside your sweatshirt to cover your arms and very thankful that there weren’t any civilians out then. You tapped your foot impatiently as the elevator took you up and then you sprinted to your room to put on a different sweatshirt with a high neck tank top under to cover the marks spreading up your neck.

The girls were a few minutes behind you. You changed just in time to greet them with your first aid kit.

Rumi burst out of the elevator with a cry of your name, “You’re okay, right?!” She grabbed your arms, scanning you over frantically, checking for bruises or scratches.

“Those dirty playing demons,” Zoey fumed, stomping with her arms crossed childishly. “You are okay though, right, (Y/n)?”

Mira huffed, following the other two out of the elevator, “She’s fine guys, she doesn’t have a scratch.” You didn’t miss how her eyes scanned over you though, making sure that you really were alright.

“What were you thinking?!” Rumi stressed, grabbing your face in her hands to pull you closer to her. “Going after them?! You could’ve been hurt! You could’ve been…!” Rumi trailed off, the words stuck in her throat.

You could’ve been found out. Your pattern could’ve been seen. You’d have to tell Rumi later that the boys had ripped your sleeves.

But for now, you smiled with a light laugh, “I’m fine, Rumi, I promise. Let me patch you guys up, you guys look a little… eesh.” You grimaced as you took a good look at all the scratches on their faces. They were not offended, they completely understood.

The girls relaxed and let you tend to their scratches and bruises before going to change into lounge clothes and then coming back to see the Honmoon.

Thankfully, they bought your explanation that you lost the boys due to Gwi Ma summoning them and had headed back to the tower to wait for them, you had explained while you patched them up.

The girls stood at the window, looking at the red corrupting the Honmoon as you put the first aid supplies away and moved to the kitchen. You glanced at them with furrowed brows as you got out the ingredients for kimbap.

Then the elevator came up with Bobby, “Girls?”

The girls whipped out their compacts to aggressively cover the wounds on their faces and turned to greet him, “Hey Bobby!”

You threw the first aid supplies in one of the cupboards as you shook your head. You couldn’t help but find it amusing how well trained they were by now in covering up scrapes and bruises from their hunting.

You heard Bobby swiping through TikTok, and couldn’t help the way your shoulders bounced as the chorus of Soda Pop played on a loop.

“Zoey!”

“Bobby! Control those shoulders!”

You froze awkwardly. At least they hadn’t caught you… You focused on making the kimbap a little more aggressively, your head ducked down to avoid attention. It was such a catchy song…

You hunched down further when Rumi started plotting an aggressive diss track to perform at the International Idol Awards.

“Zoey, we’re gonna need a new song!”

“I got twenty-three notebooks full of demon insults ready to go.”

“Yeah! Let’s make it thirty notebooks!”

“Mira, the choreography?”

“Yup. Making them hotter.”

“Backup dancers, ready to go.”

“(Y/n),” you gave a strained smile at the sudden call of your name, standing at attention and thankfully not cutting your fingers with the knife in your hand. “Visuals?”

“Already making a mental Pinterest board!”

“Team of designers, ready for your call!”

“We’ll write a brand new song. A diss track to expose those Saja Boys.”

“And send those disgusting demons back to the depths where they belong!”

You bit back a grimace as the girls started raging enthusiastically.

“Yeah!”

“YeaHHH!”

“YeahHHH!”

“…”

“YEAHHH!!”

And then they ran off to their rooms to get started or rest or something… You sighed, carrying the plate of finished kimbap rolls over to stand next to Bobby to stare flatly after them.

Welp. More for you. You held out the plate to Bobby, “Kimbap?”

“Oh, thanks (Y/n)!”

You wrapped up the rest of the rolls except for one, taking it with you. You paused at Rumi’s door, raising your hand to knock. But you hesitated.

You should tell Rumi that the Saja Boys saw your pattern. Them knowing was a threat because then they also knew that Rumi had patterns too. But… maybe they would just think you were the only one with a demon pattern…? You’d have to talk to them.

So you lowered your hand and kept walking to your room. You shut the door behind you, almost screaming in surprise when a hand slapped over your mouth and dragged you out your balcony door and jumped up to the roof of the tower.

When they released you, you took a deep breath and scrambled away to put distance between you and your kidnapper. “You gotta stop doing that!”

Romance couldn’t help but chuckle, waving his hands disarmingly, “Sorry sorry, I just wanted to chat with you.”

You bit your lip. They knew about your pattern. “About what?” You asked, on guard.

“Your pattern.” There it is. “You’re part demon.”

“So what?” You snapped defensively, hugging your arms even though you knew your skin was covered.

“I was curious,” He admitted openly, brushing some hair out of his face as he leaned back against the edge of the small roof balcony. “You don’t hear him, do you?”

“No. W-wait, who?” You backpedaled, you had refused on instinct and then you registered what he said.

He looked at you obviously, “Gwi Ma. You didn’t make a deal with him? All demons hear his voice, constantly reminding them of… their shame.”

You loosened from your defensive pose, surprised by the vulnerable look on his face. He didn’t seem to want to hurt you, so you relaxed and leaned against the edge behind you, keeping your distance for now.

“Shame?” You echoed curiously.

He looked at you, analyzing you, “It’s all demons do, feel their shame and all the emotions that come with it. These patterns,” He held up his arm, his patterns glowing as he did. “They show that each demon carries a deep shame with them…”

Then he was in front of you, taking your hand as you gasped softly. Your own pattern started glowing through your clothes, “You do too, sweetheart…”

Your grip tightened on his hand. You looked down as your heart squeezed painfully. Yeah… you do…

“Romance—“

“Call me Chungae,” He interrupted you softly.

“Chungae. You… you guys won’t tell the others, right? Rumi… Rumi and I aren’t ready yet, but… we want to be the ones to tell them…” You hesitantly asked through stumbling words. They knew. They must know that you and Rumi are part demon…

You couldn’t help but think of all the moments you’ve wanted to share your secret with Mira and Zoey. You want to go to the bathhouse with them. You want to go to the beach. You want to be able to wear your skin comfortably instead of the itching, crawling feeling you get at just the idea of wearing shorts or a tank top.

But it wasn’t your choice whether you told them or not. It wasn’t your secret to tell. It was Rumi’s.

Chungae scanned your face, his look softening as he brushed a bit of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t know about the others, but I won’t tell.”

You couldn’t help but relax at the reassurance, your face warmer at his touch. These boys really weren’t evil, they were so… human.

You looked away, “You should go before the other girls come looking for me.”

Chungae couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your shy demeanor. How cute… It’s like the first time you met all over again, how cute and shy you were when the five of them invited you to their debut. “Of course.”

You gasped as he smoothly swept you into his arms and leapt down to your balcony as you bit back a shriek. When you got down from his arms, you couldn’t help but bend over with your hands on your knees, taking deep breaths to settle your heart from the shock of being carried down from one height to another. “Stop doing that!” You whisper shouted at him, disgruntled.

“Sorry sorry, darling, I’ll go now,” Chungae hopped up to the railing of your balcony, stopping to look over his shoulder at you, “Oh. You should know that the others are also interested in seeing you. Just a heads up.”

He smiled slyly before jumping and disappearing in a dramatic poof of demon magic. “Wait, huh!?”

You grabbed a pillow to scream into.

Oh wait. Your kimbap!

~~~

And they did.

The next day, you were out looking at fabrics for the visuals of the diss track the girls were working on. Something like their battle outfits would work good but with sharp color accents to make it pop and fit the stage. Less spikes too, a little less aggressive but fans will probably like the dark look. Maybe in a music video, the girls could use their weapons so then if they pull them out on stage, they just look like props and special effects…?

Oh. There’s a boy walking next to you.

“… Can I help you…?”

Hands stuffed in his pockets, looking around with a disinterested look but a spark of curiosity shone in his eyes underneath the hat hiding his features, “No. I’m good.”

“Okayyy… you do you, Baby” You decided to just keep going about your business as Baby followed at your side.

“Jum,” He corrected you.

“Uhm, okay, Jum…” You kept looking at the maknae out of the corner of your eye as he followed you into fabric shops, looking around curiously or scrolling on his phone as you talked with the owners.

“Hey,” You stopped on the sidewalk when Jum tugged on your sleeve, pointing over to a shop window, “What’s that?”

You looked over, “A cat cafe…?” You looked at him strangely. How old was he again…?

Jum was quiet for a moment. “Let’s go in.” He was already walking in before you could respond. You didn’t have to follow him, he had just decided to follow you after all, but—ughhhh!

You followed him in.

Going in, he looked like a lost kid. He was looking around at the tables and the people. “Welcome! How many people today and for how long?”

“Uhhh…”

You came up behind him, smiling at the host, “Table for two, just for an hour please.”

“Alright, right this way!”

Ah man, why did you follow him again…? Jum trailed after you as you followed the host into the sectioned off area to a booth by a window. “Someone will be by to take your order in a moment. Please feel free to give the cats treats!”

“Thank you!” You called after her as you sat, setting down your work bag as Jum slid into the seat across from you. He was staring. You followed his gaze to see he was in a staring contest with a black cat. You looked between the two of them, back and forth. It was kind of adorable.

“Pick what you want to order and then we can try and tempt some cats over.”

Jum didn’t know what to order. He was one of the few born in the demon realm, he had never been to the human realm before as the prince of a small territory. Not that the title mattered much with Gwi Ma ruling.

“If you wanna start simple, a coffee or hot chocolate would be good hot drinks. Or a vanilla or chocolate milkshake if you want something cold. For food, the sandwiches are good if you want something savory but the strawberry shortcake looks good for something sweet.”

You were almost tempted to recommend a soda pop for him but you’ve seen enough TikToks of fans giving them different sodas.

Jum took in the information you gave him with a hum, scanning over the menu again.

You ordered, Jum ended up getting a coffee and the strawberry shortcake. You almost laughed at the contrasting flavors he would be experiencing. But you pulled over the little container of cat treats, “Alright, let's see if we can get a few kitties over.”

Jum perked up at the same time as some of the cats as the container clinked as you opened it. Three cats hurried over, and you couldn’t help but laugh brightly as they jumped up on the bench to climb in your lap and over your shoulders, nuzzling your face cutely for treats. “Hey, settle down! You’ll get your treats!”

Jum’s face softened at the sight. You laughing so carelessly, smiling brightly as the fluffy creatures swarmed around you while your face flushed with joy. He couldn’t help but sneak a few photos and sent one to the Saja chat smugly. He ignored the chat as it started going off.

The two of you played with the cats for a while. The wondrous look on Jum’s face as he first pet a cat was adorable and you really wanted to take a picture but the girls were always taking selfies on the first phone they could grab. You couldn’t risk them seeing it.

You had the same urge when you saw his face as he first tasted his coffee and then his cake. It was soooo adorable…

Before the two of you went your separate ways, Jum quietly told you that he wouldn’t spill your secret.

~~~

You watched from backstage as the girls politely clapped on screen, the boys awarded as the top artist of the week. They were really starting to make progress on their diss track but you couldn’t help but distance yourself from the project. The lyrics that were unfolding made you uncomfortable in a different way from how Golden did.

Golden had lines about not hiding anymore and being honest but it just felt like a lie whenever Rumi sang it with the girls. But Takedown… was strictly about killing demons because they were evil, unfeeling monsters that didn’t deserve to live. It made your skin crawl and you couldn’t help but itch at your arms and neck from time to time when you heard them discussing it.

You turned to make your way back to the girls’ dressing room to meet them once the awards ended and they left the stage. You could hear clapping again, the awards must have ended. And then you were swept away. Into a closet.

‘What was with these guys?!’ You were pinned against a shelf of cleaning supplies, a thick arm caging you in above you. Another held out a flower to you. “Hey there, babe~”

You crossed your arms, looking up at him unimpressed. Well… there was a little flush on your cheeks. “Hi Abby. What is this, a shoujo manga?”

He tsked, smirking playfully down at you, “Come on, babe, can’t spare a guy a warmer welcome?”

“Not when he and his friends keep sweeping me away for their whims. What did you want?” You plucked the flower from his hand, rolling the stem between your fingers.

Abby chuckled, his arm flexing as he swept his hair out of his face. “Well, our two youngest got to spend some one-on-one time with you and I wanted my turn. Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”

You hesitated. And not for the reasons you should’ve. “I… I have to get dinner ready for the girls…”

“What are you, their housewife?” He raised a brow down at you.

You grimaced as the words hit a little close to home. Yeah, he hit the nail right on the head. “I guess… they can order take out tonight…”

“Yes! Come on, before the other boys catch up!” Abby cheered, taking your wrist and jogging out of the closet and to the nearest exit.

“Hey!”

“Abby!”

“No fair!” You heard the cries of the other Saja Boys behind you as he dragged you along. You chuckled. The other demon boys could easily catch up if they wanted to. But dang, you dropped your flower back there…

A few streets over, you stopped as Abby slowed down barely out of breath, in contrast to you who was panting like a dog. Oh man, you felt way too gross to be with this man right now.

“So… I actually don’t know any good spots to eat at…”

You laughed at his sheepish expression. “Come on, there are some good food stalls at the night market.”

Without thought, you took his hand and led the way. When you got there, it turned out that Abby wasn’t picky about his food at all and that he could pack away a lot of food. You guys went from stall to stall, you were amazed as Abby charmed the older sellers, chatting with them as if they had known each other for a long time. Whatever food you couldn’t finish, Abby happily did.

“What are you? Some demon trash disposal? Where does it all go?” You asked him as he finished off the last of the chicken skewers you both had been eating.

“Straight to my muscles of course,” He smirked, flexing cheekily with a wink.

You laughed and shoved him jokingly. Then, a curious thought occurred to you, “Hey Abby? Can I… ask what the demon realm is like?”

He blinked, surprised by the question but you just continued looking forward, not meeting his eyes. He copied you, looking ahead as the two of you walked.

“It’s dark and depressing. The sky is red like it’s on fire and the ground is dry and desolate. Nothing grows there. There are two main types of demons: those that formed from souls fed to Gwi Ma and those that lost their souls making deals with Gwi Ma. There are also demons born from other demons but those are rare.”

You frowned in thought, not responding for a long moment. So, demons really could feel emotions. Did that mean… that your dad really did love your mom…?

Abby noticed your expression, lost in deep thought, “What’cha thinking about there, babe?”

You didn’t answer for a moment, too many thoughts trailing in too many different directions… “Nothing important. So, which are you guys, Abby?”

Abby hummed, “Call me Kwan,” he said, letting you change the subject. He couldn’t help but let you in a little closer. He thought if he just kept using his stage name with you, he could keep a little distance between you, keep the mission in mind. But… he wanted to let you close.

“Well, with the exception of Jum, we’re all humans that made deals with Gwi Ma years ago out of desperation. I…” Kwan trailed off and the two of you stopped by the river to sit on a bench in a quiet area. “I was born during an old war. I wasn’t strong enough to protect my family when it counted, so I asked Gwi Ma for strength to protect those I cared about.” He laughed sarcastically, “How well that turned out for me…”

You frowned, taking his hand slowly, hesitantly offering comfort from the obviously dark memories and regrets swimming through his head. He smiled softly at you, squeezing your hand as the two of you looked out over the river. There was nothing for either of you to say at that moment, but you understood each other.

~~~

After that interaction with Kwan, the girls noticed you were lost in thought more often, but they didn’t bring it up, figuring you were just deep in thought about the visuals and clothes for the new song. You often got lost in a new project when it really inspired you.

Except you didn’t like the new song. It was just so hateful towards demons and after you knew most demons come from human souls in some shape or form, you couldn’t fully support it. Especially with your own pattern steadily spreading across your skin. You had to start using a salve to help with the scratching the stress was causing. If they spread too much more, you would have to start wearing a face mask…

Now that you think about it, the only Saja Boys you haven’t really talked to are Jinu and Mystery. Which one would ambush you next? Was it bad that you were looking forward to it?

You needed a break from the girls. As the Honmoon corruption got worse and more demons came through, they got more tense and enthusiastic with the new diss track. So, you went to the park to sit and just breathe for a few minutes. You sat on a bench under the shade of a tree, head back and eyes closed under the sun as you took a deep breath. Someone was playing Soda Pop nearby and you could hear Golden somewhere too…

Your eyes snapped open when arms wrapped around you from behind a nose buried into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath. You flushed deep red, shrieking as you leapt to the other end of the bench. A hand pressed to your chest to settle your racing heart you turned to see it was a sulky Mystery, pouting at you pulling away so quickly.

“It’s just me,” He said.

“Personal space, dude!” You cried vehemently, your face still a dark red. Mystery circled the bench to sit next to you. Like, right next to you. Your thighs were touching. You deadpan at him, “This is not personal space, man.”

Mystery just tilted his head at you. It was nice to see you with the sun shining down on you like this. And your scent was so comforting when it filled his senses, he couldn’t help but burrow his nose in the crook of your neck. It made his teeth itch to bite again.

“How do you guys keep finding me? Do you have some kind of tracker or something…?”

“Nah, it’s mostly by chance,” Mystery told you, casually taking your hand to play with your fingers and the rings you had on. He didn’t tell you how Jinu’s bird was keeping an eye or three on you… He didn’t remember much about social normalities from when he was human, but he could remember that telling someone they were being watched was weird.

You shook your head and let him do as he pleased, taking a deep breath and tilting your head back to enjoy the sun while closing your eyes.

Then there was a tugging on your hand, “Let’s go.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond or ask where you were going before he was tugging you off the bench and away. “Wait, Mystery, where are we going?” You almost slapped a hand over your mouth, hoping no one heard that it was one of the Saja Boys out in public.

“Hyeon. De-stress,” he said simply. Then he was pulling you into an arcade. You didn’t really know how playing some games at an arcade would help you relax

But at least you didn’t have to pay to play because Hyeon was already pulling out his wallet! Don’t get it wrong, you could pay for stuff yourself, but it was refreshing after eating so much food with Jum and Kwan. You refused to let them pay for your food and you didn’t pay for theirs either but it was still money…

When Hyeon had the prepaid wristbands, he turned to hand one to you with a small smile, “Sometimes, you just need to act like a kid.”

You blinked. And then he was pulling you to the first game he saw with that small content smile and you couldn’t help but laugh.

You were pretty sure he also just wanted to go to an arcade…

Hyeon was right though. Playing those games, you couldn’t help but laugh and as you became more competitive with him, you forgot what was bugging you. You laughed louder and became more comfortable treating him like a close friend, pushing him and bickering as he gave you a little smug smirk when he won and a sulky pout when he lost. You had to pull him back when he started barking at a few people that tried to rush the two of you at some games…

It was late by the time you both left, matching ugly keychains in hand from the prize shop.

“… Thanks Hyeon, I really needed that,” You smiled at him as you stopped at the park where you would both be going your own ways.

He smiled, taking your hand in his. “Of course, princess. Anything to see that smile on your face.”

Oh boy. You didn’t think Hyeon would be the cheesy one but he said it so seriously before placing a kiss on your hand.

You shook yourself, your face flushing red as you steeled yourself, “Hey, I am not a princess!” You crossed your arms.

Hyeon smirked a little, “I don’t think you can handle what I really want to call you so princess will do for now.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but drop as your face flushed darker.

“See you soon, princess,” he said, and then he was walking away and you just stared after him, speechless.

‘What did he mean by that?! Ugh, stupid hot demon boys…’

~~~

Another award show passed and Golden won most played song of the week. But tensions were still high as the Saja Boys took over more and more of the billboards, they were all anyone could see on TikTok too, more fans joining the Pride.

Your nervous scratching was getting worse, you had to go out and get another salve. Thankfully, the girls were too focused on Takedown and demon hunting to keep track of when you were in or out of the tower. It hurt you a little though, that you fell to the wayside so easily.

You were mindlessly scratching over your sleeve with the salve safely wrapped in a small paper bag in your arms as you started the walk back to the tower. You needed to talk to the design team about what you had in mind and to the producers about visuals for a possible music video.

“What’cha got there, pretty girl?”

You turned to see him leaning against the wall in the shadows of an alley. You sighed, “Do you plan these dramatic encounters or do they just come naturally to you?”

Jinu chuckled, standing straight but his eyes lingered on the bag in your arms and the arm where you had been scratching. “Being an idol calls for a flare for the dramatic,” He shrugged.

You chuckled at his antics but then his hand snapped out to grab your wrist. Panicked, you tried to pull away as he pushed your sleeve up. You forgot that he knew about your pattern so it wasn’t those marks he was looking at.

No, it was the red scratch marks littering your arm where the pattern was darkest.

He snapped his eyes up to glare at you, pulling you somewhere, “What’s so bad that you scratch yourself to such a degree?”

You had no answer for him besides shame… So you didn’t say anything.

He sighed. Jinu ended up taking you to a small plaza, not many people around as he sat you on the edge of a fountain. He pulled out the small glass container of salve you had gotten, reading the ingredients with narrow eyes before opening it and smelling it.

Jinu tsked before taking your arm to gently apply the salve to each bleeding scratch and red mark, “The herbs used today are so bad, not as effective as the ones grown years ago… too much pollution…” He murmured to himself.

You couldn’t help but smile at his care. “Thanks Jinu…”

He glanced up and faltered, remembering who he was and who he was with as he quickly but carefully finished up, fumbling a little as his cheeks pinked, “Oh, ah, it’s fine, don’t mention it.” He quickly screwed the cap on of the salve and practically shoved it in your hands before awkwardly sitting down next to you.

Wow. Jinu was the most awkward of the group it seemed. Was Baby really the maknae of the group? You giggled at how the tips of his ears were red and he refused to look at you.

“Is it really… that bad living with the patterns…?”

You froze at his hesitant question. You gripped your arm over your sleeve to keep from scratching more at the flare of stress you felt. You couldn’t look at him. “I don’t know… I started scratching when I was a kid. It comes and goes depending on what I’m stressed about…”

“Meaning, when you’re stressed about your pattern,” Jinu summarized thoughtfully. You could feel his gaze on the side of your face.

“Yeah…” You avoided his gaze.

Jinu frowned. This wasn’t like the first interaction he had with your sister. That was filled with him trying to gain her trust, trying to convince her that he was the only one that would understand her. It made his stomach curl uncomfortably how she didn’t even argue that you understood her. Were you two not very close?

He saw something different than your sister in you, “You liked your patterns once, didn’t you?”

Your face slackened then hardened, “…I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He frowned but nodded in acceptance anyway. Pushing wouldn’t get him anywhere. “That’s alright, but I can understand what you’re going through,” It was the same thing he told your sister. But with you he couldn’t help but… genuinely mean it. He looked down at his hand. His pattern was a constant reminder of his shame after all. Sometimes he wanted to scratch until they just peeled away too.

“I know, I just… I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it…” You told him. Rumi should be the first one you talked to about this, right? But, wouldn’t she just recycle Aunt Celine’s words at you? Never show your faults (Y/n), never show your pattern (Y/n), you’d betray Rumi and everyone else if you shared your pattern (Y/n), you’re not enough (Y/n).

You shook your head and stood. “I want ice cream.”

He looked up at you with surprise, “Oh. Okay…?”

“Come on.” The shoe was on the other foot now as you started marching to the nearest ice cream shop, not waiting to see if he would follow.

“Wh-what? Wait, what’s happening?” He scrambled after you, confused but going along with your sudden decision.

Jinu followed you into the ice cream shop, sliding on a pair of glasses and a hat to disguise himself. You were already ordering what you wanted, two big scoops of your favorite flavor.

He almost jumped when you suddenly turned to him expectantly. “Oh, uh,” He stuttered, scanning the flavors before him. It felt like he was sweating with the sudden pressure he felt. There were so many names, why were there so many different ice cream names?! “Uh, two scoops of Chuckle Chunk.” He couldn’t even tell you what was in it.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how stiff Jinu was. You hadn’t meant to make him feel pressured but it was pretty adorkable.

The two of you paid and left the shop to eat your ice cream at the fountain. You watched as he hesitantly tried his ice cream. His face lit up.

You chuckled, starting to eat your own ice cream, “How is it?”

Jinu couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, it’s got these really rich chocolate things and there’s these little white pieces and some salty caramel things too.”

You blinked at how he described it. “How old are you again…?” That was how he described brownie fudge chunks, marshmallow pieces, and sea salt caramel syrup?

He blinked too, “Four hundred…?”

You couldn’t help but balk, “Oh wow, you’re old.”

He deadpanned at you. “And you’re a baby.”

You laughed. Jinu didn’t really know what you were laughing about, maybe just the situation itself but he smiled.

It was easier to be around you than he thought it would be. “Don’t stress too much.”

You looked at him, “It’s kinda hard to avoid stress when Gwi Ma is trying to destroy the Honmoon and feast and the human souls of the whole population. Besides, I’ve got a lot going on: visuals for the girls, keeping our apartment clean, cooking, designing clothes and visuals for them, and then there’s a fan signing event coming up…” You sighed and Jinu grimaced. Wow.

Jinu knew he wasn’t helping with the stress you were going through but he couldn’t help his selfish streak. He wanted his memories gone…

“Just… Cut your nails or wear gloves so you don’t hurt yourself so badly…” Jinu told you.

You smiled. He was… worried for you. It was the first time that someone’s worry didn’t make you feel weak. It wasn’t about your fighting capabilities, it was about your well-being. When was the last time that someone worried about that?

“Thanks Jinu…” You smiled mischievously. “It’s the first time such a pretty boy has shown me such care,” You turned the table on him.

Jinu spontaneously combust. Stuttering as he shoved more ice cream in his mouth to occupy himself but that just made his head hurt.

“Brain freeze!” You laughed.

~~~

The night before the fan signing event, you laid awake in bed. The girls were surely already sleeping so that they could get plenty of rest. But you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Looking back on the past two weeks, you felt more conflicted than you ever had before.

The voice in your head that sounded like Aunt Celine said that you shouldn’t be letting the Saja Boys so close, getting so comfortable with them. The girls were going to kill them anyway so you were just looking to get your heart broken at this rate.

But a small part of yourself whispered that they made you feel safe, seen, heard in a way that you never had been before.

Outtake(s):

Jum(Baby): “Do they make these cakes…spicier?”

You: “Uh…no. No they do not.”

Jum(Baby): *Sadly* “Aw man…”

…

Hyeon(Mystery): *Sees someone just a little too close to you* “Grrrrr…”

You: *Being dragged along as you try to hold him back* “You can’t- Stop! Bad Saja Boy!”

Hyeon(Mystery): *Feral gremlin barking*

…

You: *sick of all these pretty boys flustering you* “What do you want, pretty boy?”

Jinu: *ERROR ERROR ERROR* “Uhhhh…”

…

Huntr/x: “You know, (Y/n) has been disappearing a lot lately… And she never wants to listen to our song…”

Huntr/x: “Maybe she’s uncomfortable with the lyrics?”

Huntr/x: …

Huntr/x: “Nah. She’s just way too inspired by our violent need to eradicate all demons.”

You: *frantically scratching*

Tag list:

@brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374

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livwritessometimes · 8 hours ago

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I'm So Glad You Almost Burned Down Your Entire Building

: Part 17 (Max's Version)

: Who could have predicted burning a few cookies could lead you to the love of your life <3

: Prev

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

…

The house was filled with Victoria's loud laughter and Max's occasional protest at something his mother said. It was a nice change to the calm they have most days. Making her way around the house, Y/n noticed that the window to the fire escape was open. As she made her way towards the window, she saw Jos sitting outside. The air outside was cooler as compared to the inside of the house. It was a nice contrast to the chaos inside. Y/n hesitated for a second, thinking whether she should disturb him or not. Before she could do anything Jos' voice came from outside, "You know you can join me if you want to," he said, looking at her before turning back. Letting out a nervous sign, Y/n made her way towards the fire escape, opting to lean against the ledge not fully going out.

The two did not say anything for a while, enjoying the silence the city had to offer. "You know, this place is not that bad," Jos said breaking the silence. "Got a nice view," he continued. Y/n smiled at that, "Ya, that's what sold me about this place," she said. "Well that and the fact that I needed a new apartment after almost burning down my last one," she said looking away in embarrassment. Jos let out a chuckle at that. Again silence filled the two. Y/n was about to go back inside when Jos said, "You're good for him." Y/n blinked, unsure how to react, "Umm...thank you," she said.

Looking back inside, Jos continued, "He's different now. More relaxed." Y/n didn't know what to say, she didn't want to overstep but before she could do anything Jos said, "Did you know, he texted me that night. The night he got arrested." Y/n did in fact not know about this. She looked at him almost in a little disbelief, Jos nodded at her and continued, "He didn't make much sense at first, but he did say one thing that I remember to this date, 'I had something good and you made me ruin it…I lost the one thing I never realized I wanted to lose'." Y/n's heart skipped a beat at that. Her face suddenly felt hot, she had no idea how to react to this information. "I didn't answer him that night," Jos said. "I honestly didn't know how to. I just kept re-reading that message more times than I'd like to admit." he finished.

Y/n looked at him and could see his expression soften, "I haven't always been kind, especially to him," he admitted. "I though pushing him would help prepare him. You've been good at reminding him there's more to life than that." Y/n smiled looking inside the house to see Max arguing with Vic, "He's easy to love, he always had been," she said. Looking back at the city Jos said, "I'm glad it's you." Looking at him, Y/n smiled and said, "I'm glad it's me too."

From inside Max called out for Y/n, "Schat, you good?" Turning towards the boy Y/n said, "Ya! I'll be there in a minute." Before going back into the living room, Y/n asked Jos, "You coming?" "In a bit, kid," was all Jos said, and with that Y/n made her way towards the boy, who was now eagerly waiting for her with open arms.

…

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bewitched-hours · 1 day ago

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Hello! Yeah me again asking abt the noli and 07 yandere thing (lord I feel weird asking again I don’t want to be a bother) It’s just the last one you wrote was really and I mean really WELL written and I was hoping to ask for a part 2 of how things go? Hacking together, speaking, debating life—just quite cool! I already sent you the link of the past one I was talking about so I hope thats alright!

HI- YEAH- I SAW IT LOL I only saw it at school tbf so I'm starting it with this and have the story opened in another tab to make sure I don't forget anything (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

The reader's pronouns are once again She/They-

Pre-Forsaken

All three of you sat on opposite sides of 007 as you looked at the child in his arms.

"It's kinda cute..." You tried to end the silence comfortably as you could see the man soften. Noli didn't look so tough either for a change.

Though the red bundle of joy was giddy now, you knew it was only a matter of time until it got hungry...

"What are we meant to do with it..?" Noli asked quietly, watching as the baby held onto 007's fingers with glee. It honestly melted your heart a bit.

"I say we keep it." You state bluntly, surprised eyes meeting your own as you went to quickly explain yourself. "Think about it. If we drop it off somewhere else it would probably reach the same path as us if it survives anyways."

The two of them gave each other an unsure look before you gently lifted the child out of 7n7's arms with a huff. "I'm not saying we'd be great parents or anything but it'd definitely be better than the foster system or death." Your tone was firm but they could tell you were empathising with that little red face giggling up at you.

Maybe you were trying to prove something to yourself. That you were better than your family? Maybe that you can actually take care of something meaningful?

Whatever, it wasn't like either of them could say no by the time you started cooing at the baby all motherly.

"Heh, guess you're right." 007 perked up first, getting you to smile a bit more.

Wether it was to make you happy or they actually liked the idea, you couldn't care less. What mattered was that this child was safe with you.

"We should totally call it after the c00lgui." You commented with a chuckle, having Noli cackling and 007 trying to suppress his laugh.

"Yeah- no- this is good- So c00lkidd?" He suggested, letting out a laugh at your grinning nod. It was silly, it was unusual...

It was perfect.

"It'll be the perfect addition! Plus, I have some experience back when I had a babysitting gig to save up some money as a kid myself. We'll just need to get a few things and c00lkidd is gonna be spoiled with love!" You practically beamed and placed a gentle kiss on the little one's head, going back to cooing at it as it giggled in your arms.

Being a family might just be easier than you thought...

Post-Forsaken

For once, 007 probably appreciated being an outsider.

It meant more time with you. More time with Noli.

You were quick to figure out a spot to all meet in where neither killers nor survivors would even hear you.

It was perfect, especially whenever Noli decided to bring along c00lkidd and you could just talk for a while.

CK loved you. He loved the idea of having a big family like this where you could be his mom. You played nice and fair and actually managed to tire him out at times.

Though he didn't understand why it was such a taboo to play tag outside of rounds, he trusted your explanation that it was because it was less fun with only you four and the other survivors wouldn't be willing to listen to you or 007.

And CK knew the other killers were even less willing so...

But you'd always promise that once you get back home, you'll be the best mother to c00lkidd. And he took it as a good promise to make before saying his goodbyes and waiting for the next round.

You were committed to being the mother c00lkidd needed and the 'wife' that 007n7 and Noli deserved...

A bit disappointed with how this turned out but I tried my best-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

#forsaken roblox #forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #yandere forsaken #yandere forsaken x reader #007n7 forsaken #noli forsaken #007n7 x reader #noli x 007n7 #007n7 x noli #noli x reader

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yoiisa · 1 day ago

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hi there, can u write a fic (college au/no blue lock) where reader & isagi are in a relationship, but his roommates slash friends don't know bcs reader always comes over whenever isagi says that his friends (bachira, kunigami, & chigiri) aren't at their apartment, but then get caught one day when his friends went back home early?

ive only stumbled upon ur account recently and i love ur fics/writing!!

omg love!! idk how colleges in japan work, so im just going to model this based on american colleges :D

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: slightly suggestive and making out!!

➜ you knew isagi yoichi for around 6 months before the two of you started dating, but you'd been eyeing him for all of that time ➜ he was exactly your type- quiet, but the sweetest and most considerate person ever. ➜ he had beautiful blue eyes, was taller than you, and played soccer for the school. holy hell, talk about your personal kryptonite ➜ he was always too shy to ask you out though, so you had to take initiative on that front

You're sitting under a tree with Isagi in the school's courtyard. People are passing you by, heading to their respective classes. All you can think of in this moment though is how nice this is. The summer breeze is brushing his hair perfectly and the sun is making his eyes look like tiny sapphires. He looks like a prince. "Um, [name]?" he asks looking down at you. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet." You blink a few times, snapping out of your trance. You look down at your lap, staying silent for a little while. "Hey, Isagi?" you start. He leans forward and you feel like your heart is a car that someone just revved. "Umm, you don't have a girlfriend right?" "N-no," he stammers, taken aback. "Why?" "Do you," you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. You meet his gaze and give him a tiny smile as you force the words out of your throat. "Do you wanna go out with me?" Your heart stops as he physically flinches back. "Nevermind!" you quickly say, holding your hands up in defense. "I'm so sorry, just forget all of that-" "N-no! That's not it, I- I do like you," he insists, "I just didn't expect you to ask me out." He lets out a deep breath and chuckles. "I was actually going to try and ask you out. My friends were giving me all this advice on how to do it. You just caught me off guard though. Beat me to the punch, huh?" He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. "But to answer your question, yes. I would like to go out with you."

➜ and that was that! the two of you were a couple. only one thing though- you'd never met those illusive friends ➜ whenever you went over to his dorm- a quad with two bunk beds and four desks, as well as a quite beautiful view of the whole campus through the window- there was no one else there but the two of you ➜ six months went by and not a single glimpse of them! you asked isagi about it once and he gave you a few excuses

"Well Bachira's really close to his mom, so he leaves campus a lot to hang out with her every now and then. She doesn't live too far from here anyways," Isagi explains as he rests his head in your lap. "And then Chigiri has a part time job at a physical therapist's office. He used to go there for himself since he messed up his leg once in an accident a while ago." You nod, running your finger through his hair. "And what about Kunigami?" "Also has a part time job as a kiddie's soccer coach," he says. "Hmm," you smirk and tickle your boyfriend's neck. He flinches and you giggle, "So you're the only one unemployed, huh?" He stiffens and gives you a look out of the corner of his eyes. "No. Bachira doesn't have a job too."

➜ when you finally meet Isagi's roommates . . . it's a mess ➜ after not seeing them enough times, you grew relatively comfortable with the idea that you never would in the dorms, and so did he ➜ he would have you over pretty often, and to be completely honest, sometimes things got a little spicy! ➜ so here you were, sitting on his desk and his standing between your legs. your lips locked in a heady kiss that was making you lightheaded. your tongues lapped hungrily at one another and your teeth clacking ➜ and then the door opened.

"Yoichi~" you gasp as he pulls back from your mouth. He starts to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking small bruises into your collarbone and neck. "Mmm, you're so sweet," he groans, inhaling your scent. He feels like getting drunk off of it. His hot hands trail under your shirt, tracing around your curves. You giggle, but then both of your bodies freeze as you hear the door clicking. Isagi, in a moment of pure panic, tightens his grip on your waist and fucking shoves you off the desk and onto the floor. He was trying to hide you underneath the desk, not wanting his roommates to catch you both in this position, but all he does is just accidentally make you kneel in front of him. Right in front of him. Honestly, it helped enough because now your back is to his roommates, who are no doubt staring at you both as if they just walked in on a porno. Isagi stares at the trio. Bachira looks scandalized, Kunigami looks shocked, and Chigiri looks annoyed. "You couldn't bother locking the door when you have a hookup over?" the pink haired boy asks. "What. The. Hell. Is. This," Bachira says, looking two seconds from passing out. "Bachira, breathe," Chigiri grumbles, walking inside. "At least get her off her knees," Kunigami says, following Chigiri. He comes up behind you and taps you on your shoulder. "Miss-" You, in your panic and fear and shame, cannot think to say literally anything else other than, "I'm his girlfriend, not a hookup." Everyone stops breathing. "His GIRLFRIEND?!" Bachira roars, lunging at you. He grabs you by your shoulders, whirls you around and pulls you up to your feet. Kunigami hits him on the back of his head, "Don't handle a girl like that!" "I-It's fine," you say, waving Kunigami off with a small smile. "I'm so sorry about this. It's just, whenever I've been over, none of you are ever here, so I guess we got a little . . . careless." "You've been here before?" Bachira asks. A thud sounds from behind you and you whirl around. Bachira and Kunigami peek over your shoulder. Chigiri walks up to an Isagi whose cherry red. The embarrassment was just too much for his brain to handle anymore it seems. "Yoichi!" you shout, kneeling next to him. "I'll get him water," Chigiri says, walking to the dorm's mini fridge.

�� the two of you never live this first impression down. not even at your wedding.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you

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loganficsonly · 2 days ago

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an independent woman

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 5: slipping away ✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

worst!logan x fem!reader, 5.3k (the longest yet!)

SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.

SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes, mentions of alcoholism and AA

CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+ MDNI!!!, masturbation, ANGST, hurt no comfort, unresolved sexual tension, a ton of negative self-talk, past trauma, death (imaginatory), just lots and lots of feelings

AUTHOR'S NOTE: gonna make this a/n a bit longer than usual:

first, a huge shoutout to @theworstwolvie who has been so gracious with her time and feedback. c, your comments on the chapters so far have been a great source of motivation and joy for me, and the fact that you enjoyed reading this one before i posted it is SUCH a relief for me—mainly because of how deep i had to dig for this chapter. THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU <3

second, i haven't the faintest personal experience with alcoholism and AA, and so i resort to reading things online to understand what it's like for the little bits of it that this series contains. i stumbled upon this blog post while writing this chapter, and i just want to share it with you for how honest it is. i hope the writer is living her best life right now!!!

this chapter took a lot out of me to write (i'm bruised in many invisible places), i hope you enjoy it.

Silver and bronze.

One heavy, rectangular slab each, about as long as a remote control. Clean cut. The metallic ingots sit quietly on the shelf of the living room, plain if not for the engraving of the name of your workplace and the accolade you received.

Reflected within their monolithic shine are bursts of animated colors from the television light, dotted with rambunctious laughter that settles down into mutters of concentrated small talk.

Yukio brought her Nintendo Switch and they’re playing a party game while you watch, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. Wade, Peter, Dopinder, and Negasonic Teenage Warhead—Ellie now, to most of you—are trying to “cook a cube of steak on all sides”, per the instructions of the game.

Vanessa’s behind you, her hair dipping down as she leans to giggle near your ear. The four players wrestle visibly with the controllers, moving it like they would a frying pan.

“They look like they’re jerkin’ off the air,” she covers her mouth, and you do too, biting back a grin because you see it.

When Wade first floated the idea of celebrating your win, you said no immediately.

It’s excessive—it was a team win, not your own. You’ve allowed yourself to feel proud of your achievements, specifically on the night of the award ceremony, which was almost two weeks ago. Life has gone on since then. Even at work.

But Wade begged and pleaded.

“I promise it’s just for the first five minutes, honeybee. The rest of the night is gonna be us hanging out. Pretty please?”

Of course you couldn’t say no to that. So you relented.

“We’re doing it at your place, though,” your ex-neighbor grinned, “a proper housewarming is long overdue.”

And Wade kept his word: nice things were said about you over toasts with raised Solo Cups, earnest despite your friends overtly not understanding what it is you do for work. After that, takeout boxes were drained dry, and Yukio asked if people were in the mood for games.

You’re watching the chosen form of entertainment play out when you feel it. A pang of loneliness, just a sliver of it, as soft as a petal landing on your hair.

Logan’s not here.

Eyes flit to the kitchen—he’s there, doing dishes. Slipping away temporarily in a way that’s familiar to you. Something in you relaxes.

Before you know it, you’re up on your feet, approaching him.

It’s been like this lately. You do your best to control yourself, to be self-aware—maybe a little too aware—in maintaining an appropriate distance with the best roommate you could as for, but you still can’t stay away.

You always look for him first when you enter a crowded room. Seek the meaning between the delicate lines that appear between his eyebrows when he tastes the food you make. Focus on the stir of his back muscles against flannel when he moves around the house.

The moon probably feels the same way orbiting around Earth, you think. What pulls you to him is stronger than celestial gravity.

A defeated part of you has long excused your physical attraction towards him. He is an attractive person, the internal voice reasons, nothing wrong with eating the eye candy. It’s an insult not to.

And you agree. You haven’t dreamed of him since, but once is enough. All it takes is one dream and suddenly he’s haunting all of your waking hours like a personal vendetta against you.

He makes himself hard to ignore, whether he realizes or not. Always with the white tank tops and sweatpants. Biceps out. With any other person, you’d simply be fascinated at that level of fitness on a human body, but with him? Your mind wanders the way a child would in an amusement park.

How are you supposed to function normally when the source of your maladaptive daydreams live five feet away from your door?

Can he blame you for slipping a hand under the blanket late at night, chasing subconscious sensations that felt so real to you? Would he despise you for pretending your fingers were his own, for lying to yourself—they’re his—the way you dreamed of?

If he knew you gave yourself to him in secret, what would he do?

You have half a mind to think he notices—you were never the best pretender, and he’s lived with you long enough to get a bead on you. Stares poorly concealed. His every movement demands you to look: his fingers gripping a glass, how his eyes seem to change color under sunlight, the stretch of cotton over his undeniably sculpted chest… which come to think of, you still haven’t seen bare, to Wade’s surprise.

The worst part of this is that it’s not just his body. It’s more than that. More than eyes, hands, and his larger-than-life frame.

It’s the way he looks at you when you come home from work and wordlessly take a tub of ice cream from the freezer. The way his fingers brush against yours when you reach for the popcorn bowl at the same time. And how he hugs you, warm and binding. You keep that memory filed away in a precious stack, that night he told you about his first AA meeting.

God, you miss his arms around yours. When can he hold you again?

Would he, if he knew the things you did while thinking of him?

Wade’s voice echoes in your head.

You’re really not gonna make a move on him, honeybee? Do you actually not like him?

You reply in your head. I think I’m past liking him, Wade.

You know because alongside the dirty delusions about the rumble of his voice, you’ve started fantasizing about other things.

Things like telling him how you feel.

How it would happen—perhaps after a particularly charged movie night, or right before the mundanity of what to order for dinner. The kind of words you’d pick for him are hard to imagine, impossible to form with your mouth.

Language couldn’t contain the convolution that floods your lungs like flowers.

I want to be more than just friends. Do you?

The way you’d cut your heart out from your chest and serve it to him on a silver plate, just to show him the way it beats. Messy and erratic when he’s around. You think it’s alright if he sees all of it, even the parts that you swear to hell and heaven you wouldn’t show anyone.

Your voice would be fraught with weakness because god knows you’re never good at declaring what you want.

And it stops short there, the fantasy.

You don’t allow yourself to think about what happens next. Whether he’ll pull you into a kiss that takes your breath away or shoot you an apologetic look like he spilled coffee on a white shirt. If the nosedive ends up in the cool waters of an aquamarine swimming pool, or broken bones on a pavement.

That line of thinking is forbidden. You know how dangerous it gets, how the less-kind voices whisper. They’ve already started, in the nooks and crannies of your idle mind.

He’s nice to you because he doesn’t see you that way.

If you tell him, you’ll make him uncomfortable in the apartment he calls home. Don’t be selfish.

He sees through you. How could he possibly want that?

So the daydreams end abruptly, a third act with no resolution other than the lucidity of a single thought.

You just don’t want him to leave.

And if that means secretly surviving the stormy and turbulent, you’d do it. Day, after day, after day.

“I’d ask you to stop, but I’d be a hypocrite.”

The words tumble out of you quietly, standing by the sink near him. The party goes on, Vanessa’s and Wade’s laugh cutting through the noise.

He looks at you and does that huff—the one that’s not quite a chuckle, but just enough as an amused response.

“Caught me.”

“You don’t like the video game?” There’s a tinge of concern that weaves through the syllables. It’s getting rather loud and you don’t want him to feel bothered.

“’s fine,” he replies, wiping his hands dry after putting away the last dish, “just not good at it, ’s all.”

“You were great at the rowing one,” you smile, already replaying the fresh memory in your head.

It was rather miraculous that he didn’t swat away the offer to play in the first place. Maybe it was his soft spot for Yukio that did him in. He took the controller without a word and stared so seriously at the screen as if faced with an actual mission.

You schooled your giddy face as you watched him, stiff hand mimicking the rowing motion. Then he brought the team to victory and you were the first to cheer.

After nearly two months—god, where’d the time go?—Logan is still full of surprises, you decide.

He shoots you a playful look, one that says I know you were looking. One that’s easy to miss, but his face already became a fluent language to you.

The Super Mario Party-induced bedlam continues to resonate mere feet away, and yet the kitchen feels like it’s just for the two of you, almost enclosed in a different reality.

You watch as he looks at you. Gentle, phantom strokes across your face.

It’s moments like these that make you fall into that labyrinth. The maze that lies past your fantasies. It traps you into thinking that maybe, just maybe, he feels it too. Your heart aches with feelings that have no way out.

Logan opens his mouth then.

“And why are you escaping?”

You swallow, side-stepping to get to the fridge. I can’t, you answer in your head, not from you.

“I’m not. Just getting soda.”

The lightness in your voice had to be forced through the thickened air.

Can he tell? The same way you can tell what his grunts mean, if the frown on his face is one of upset or confusion, how he likes his coffee?

He watches as you cradle two big bottles of diet Pepsi, one in each arm. You try to ignore the way your spine tingles, reacting to the heat of his eyes on you.

You look at him one last time before passing him by, barely managing a smile on your lips.

He watches you walk away and digs a hand into the pocket of his jeans.

He feels it. An aluminum medallion.

Light, the size of a poker chip, he reckons. With a swipe of a thumb he grazes its surface, busy with embossed letters, but larger words are pressed at the center. “1 MONTH”. Buried deep like a secret he didn’t mean to keep.

Windswept with the passage of time, he forgot about it.

There’s already a buzz in the air when he enters the room in the library.

Something much bigger is underway. Something he isn’t used to, much to his dismay.

It feels like the sky drops when the question does.

“Anyone here have thirty days?”

A sudden silence takes over. His head is anything but. Strange that he is so doubtful, as if he hasn’t been counting each day religiously.

He has thirty-five. Should he raise his hand?

No, not yet. Maybe someone else hit theirs today—they should get to raise their hand first, not him, not when he feels like he hasn’t actually done anything real to get here—

Somebody does raise their hand.

Brent, he recalls. Young, a little younger than you, wearing baggy clothes and a little cowlick on his dirty blonde hair. He has a difficult look on his face as he starts to speak. The raised hand falls awkwardly back onto his lap, and then something in his eyes shines. Quiet. Steady.

“I’m Brent. I’m an alcoholic and I’m thirty days sober today.”

Pin-drop silence for a split second before the room erupts into cheers. People are clapping. Some of them get up from their chairs to embrace Brent in congratulations. The chairperson walks up to him, giving him the chip. The metal gleams red in the warm light.

What is more often than not an appropriately somber meeting, reserved in the first few minutes, dissolves into lightness and warmth. Like the shackles around each of their ankles are gone, just for the moment. Freedom in knowing that someone here—Brent—got to today, and that is enough for someone else in the room to get through their first 24 hours.

The shift in the air seems to be enough to affect him, too. The voices in his head, the recitation of names that chant as soon as the memories creep—Scott, Jean, Rogue, Storm, Charles…—lack their bite of guilt and shame. He doesn’t feel like drowning, not like he used to. Images behind his eyelids flash, not of charred corpses and bloodied faces. Not today.

Today they smile, and he remembers fragments of his days with them, as beautiful as painted pictures.

The same image that made him cry for the first time in years.

In this room, with other faces who have gone through so much, regret doesn’t echo as loud. If his friends—no, his family—were here…

…they’d be proud of him too. He can’t lie to himself out of that fact.

He doesn’t know how, doesn’t know a part of him still remembers after countless cries since the day he lost them. But he does—hear their voice, see their smile, as if it were yesterday.

Jean and Rogue would hug him, their heads tucked in his chest and neck. Storm would, too, with a wide smile.

And Slim? Slim would be quiet for a while, gaze unreadable from behind the red visor, before finally circling an arm around his shoulder.

Charles would be the only one with words. The warmth in those bright eyes could bring tears to his own.

We’re so proud of you, Logan.

That’s what he would say.

So a minute later, Logan swallows the lump in his throat and raises his hand.

He strokes the cool metal inside his pocket. He should tell Wade. Tell Laura.

Tell you.

He watches the living room from his spot at the island, trying to be present.

It’s your and Laura’s turn on the console. Somewhere along the way it turned into a fighting game, apparently. He can hear the banter, Laura mercilessly barraging you with attacks as a response to your playful goading.

When the killing blow plays in slow motion, you let out the loosest laugh he’s heard in a while, a hand running through your hair. Laura shakes your shoulders playfully, half-heartedly consoling you with a “of course I win, we play this at the dorms all the time”.

You sigh, the same sound that he usually hears after watching a great movie together. Entertained. Grateful.

And then you turn to look at him, a bright smile on your face.

Did you see that? the pull of your lips seems to ask.

His heart rends in two at the sight.

This is what made him forget.

You. The greatest thing to stir up his emotions that drowned in a tar-like ocean of sin.

Things are deceptively easy with you. A couple of conversations got you past that clumsy hump that comes with meeting a mutual friend, and after that, the road’s been highway-clear. The two of you coast like you know the way, like you’ve known each other for a while.

Each interaction with you is a four-leaf clover, a smooth pebble, a scallop seashell—beautiful, natural little gifts that help convince him he was okay. That he no longer has to fight the world or himself, at least for the time being.

That he’s allowed to rest.

Except he can’t.

Because in the past week, June has forced her temperature up a notch, and it has been nothing less than hellish torment. Suddenly your shorts become shorter, your t-shirts smaller, until they eventually turn into tank tops.

It’s not that he blames you for seducing him through the way you dress—you could wear a potato sack and he’d still want you—it’s his fault. He was the one who crossed that line, that night in the shower, thinking of you like that despite trying so hard not to.

You exist, blissfully unaware of his transgressions, and he’s tempted.

His eyes can’t help but hunger and he feels like a nasty animal, preying on you with his gaze while you’re around the house, a place where you feel safe.

Jaw clenching at your exposed legs as you walk around from one room to another. Hands balling into fists at the glimpse of your waist when you reach for the top shelf. Mouth salivating as you move your hair, exposing the nape of your neck.

That part of you should be so innocent, but the curve, your skin… it reminds him of the dress you wore.

It didn’t help that he bumped into you a few days ago, fresh out of the shower. You gasped when you collided into his chest and he had to put a hand on your waist to hold you steady, except he didn’t realize the only thing covering you was a flimsy blue towel.

Skin damp, smelling like a concoction of fragrances that made him want to take a bite out of you.

“Oh my god, sorry,” you breathed, escaping to your room without meeting his eyes. The door closed, and he was left alone in the hallway, accompanied only by his heart beating like it was begging to be let out of its enclosure.

It also didn’t help that he came home from work early yesterday, only to hear a buzzing sound. Too loud to be electricity. Faint and barely there, but more than enough for his enhanced hearing to pick up.

Above it, a sigh. Your voice. So soft he thought he imagined it.

Then a muffled whimper, and he knew it was real, because it was better than anything he could dream of.

His nerves jolted with hyper-awareness as soon as he registered what was happening. He could feel his body react as if it responded to yours, blood pumping south, his pants tightening.

A shaky exhale. You sounded so good, too lost to have heard him close the front door, but not at all loud, like you’re still trying to hold yourself back in case someone heard. Have you been sneaking around like this, taking advantage of the times he was away, trying to hide this from him?

What if you thought about him when you touched yourself?

Fuck, he couldn’t believe that’s where his mind went. It was too late. Once he started picturing you picturing him, he felt dirty, but it wasn’t enough to make him stop.

So yes, nothing helped. Certainly not you. You made it worse.

Made him picture you in your bed in a state of undress just shy of total nakedness, legs tangled between crumpled sheets, pressing a little vibrator against your clit while you slip your fingers into your folds. Made him want to break down your bedroom door and show you how he’d make you lose your mind instead of relying on that godforsaken toy.

Made him yearn.

He locked himself in his bedroom that day, hand around his cock, and thought about more than just the arch of your back when he sinks into you. Timing his strokes with your quiet gasps—perhaps hushed for human hearing, but more than enough for him—like he wanted to believe he was there with you, causing your downfall.

A deeper need hummed incessantly through him. He should be startled at its revelation, but instead, he found it perfectly familiar. Maybe he’d thought of this from the very start.

Your face, wrecked with pleasure, cheeks flushed as you gasp up at him.

Logan, please, more.

He’d give you anything you asked for, drive deeper with the singular purpose of carving his soul into your very being. He’d leave a mark neither you or time can erase. You’d moan, lost in him, but your eyes would lock with his as you whisper, stuttered in between thrusts:

I love you—love you so much—

He came. Harder than any of the times he’s touched himself while thinking of you. Copious amounts of him spilled in his hand, on his stomach, forcing him to hold back a loud groan.

It felt wrong, his wayward mind twisting your voice to say those three words to him. He didn’t just cross a line this time, he violated it.

What have you done to him? He thought he’d be content just living. The universe gave him a chance at redemption in the shape of a man in red tights, and as if that wasn’t crazy enough, he ended up with the cleanest slate he could get: a life in a different timeline with his friends and his daughter.

But here he is, blood boiling with affection that laces his veins—for you. The prettiest, softest, kindest thing he’s ever seen, the person who stubbornly insists to be useful when you only need to exist for him to fall into that wretched feeling he hasn’t felt in a century.

You’ve turned him into a monster of greed, because now, living is no longer enough.

He wants you, wants to pull that laugh out of you, wants to make his shoulders comfortable enough for you to rest your head on, wants to spend a lazy morning in bed with you, cradling your face in his hands and showering kisses on your eyelids—

“Logan? Do you wanna play?”

Hazel eyes snap back to reality at the sound of your voice.

The entire living room is looking at him. Laura and Wade look suspicious, while you still have that blameless smile on your face, holding your controller out as if it’s for him to take.

Thoughts usually cease to exist when you look at him like that, beaming, but tonight it’s different.

Tonight he feels like he’s defiled you without having laid a hand on you, and the thoughts ring louder than ever, taking the shape of a voice he didn’t think he’d hear again.

Cassandra Nova’s.

There’s a cruel lilt to her voice, the same one he heard in the Void. That happened a lifetime ago, but it doesn’t echo—smooth and unmistakable. She’s still in there, in his head.

One good thing enters your life and you can’t keep your paws off her. Desperate pup.

You should see how you slobber all over her. A blind person could tell. I think she can, too.

You think she’s going to kick you out? I think she’s too polite for that. She’d pretend everything was fine. That sounds like her, doesn’t it?

It feels like her grimy fingers are sinking into his brain again. As if they never even left.

He tries to shake it off, the sensation of nails scratching into the recesses of his brain.

But oh, boy, when she finds out… a cold chuckle, give her two weeks and she’ll tell you she needs to move out for some bullshit reason, completely unrelated to you. Because she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. Never. She’s too nice, isn’t she?

The sensation sucks the air out of his lungs, an out-of-season chill up his spine.

She’s only nice to you because she feels sorry for you.

For a split second, he sees your face in the rubble. Bloodied in pallor, eyes blank.

Dead.

Don’t get too close, Wolvie. You know what happens when you get too close.

Fear.

How could he forget?

Has hitting thirty days of sobriety got him cocky, got him thinking he’s worth more than he really is?

What was he thinking, planning on showing a fucking coin to you?

It doesn’t change a thing. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s killed, spilled blood that could fill up a river. Pretending like his moral ledger is not in the red, like he no longer has enemies, debt-free, all set for a quiet life? What the fuck is he doing, playing house with a woman who has her entire life ahead of her?

You’re probably doing this out of pity, anyway, the same pity that moves little girls to their core when they see stray cats stuck in the rain. The kind that can’t stand seeing someone cold and alone, unaware of the diseases he’ll bring. The teeth. The claws.

He jumped timelines. Who’s to say others can’t, if they want to hunt him down so desperately? And god knows they’re out there, he just doesn’t know when they’re going to come for him.

If he’s sure of anything, it’s that his past always comes back to haunt him. Always.

And that you deserve better.

“Logan? Do you wanna play?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Grunts, footsteps padding across the room until he’s situated at the furthest corner away from you.

Doesn’t even look at you.

He’s quiet that way for the rest of the night, but only to you. You’ve spent most of your life reading rooms and sensing situations—you’re fairly certain of your assessment.

He’s upset.

About what, you don’t know. Your mind jumps to the conclusion it always does. Could he be mad at you?

Something heavy and invisible begins to make itself known in your gut. He’s only a little subdued, the way someone would after a long day at work. Afflicted with a kind of tiredness that his healing factor can’t fix.

Aside from that, he seems normal. Would be, to the average person. He even exchanged a few words with Ellie. Something about Japan. Yukio smiles, an easygoing bundle of joy next to her girlfriend.

You’re in a conversation with Dopinder—if you can call it a conversation, because it’s mostly him speaking at this point. His words are lost to you as you leave the asking of follow-up questions to Peter, while you’re left retracing steps and things said to Logan, in case something landed the way you didn’t intend it to, trying not to look over at him every three seconds.

You fail.

Glancing at him, you see him already staring at you back.

What do his eyes say? In that instant, you forget how to speak their language.

He looks away.

Suddenly it’s cold.

There’s the taste of bile in your mouth.

“Hey… you okay?”

He’s on the couch, a faraway look on his place. You step closer, gathering the guts to sit next to him—not afraid of him lashing out, but the possibility of him not wanting you there.

He nods, unmoving even as your weight sinks on the soft surface.

You’re so used to his presence, especially here in the living room. A sacred place where the two of you are free to blend into each other. Movie nights, easy laughter on your part and a snort or two from him. Assembling a store-bought shelf together on the floor, plywood parts surrounding you in a circle like it was actually a private little bubble—you and him against the world. Having dinner with him and Laura, talking shit about work, windows open, music in the background…

Now, there’s a wall. The air is thick in a way that suggests a coil being snapped, and not at all in the way you would like. Your skin tells you someone is getting hurt.

And you know who is.

“I was—”

“Did you wanna—”

The two of you begin speaking, only to stop at the same time. On another occasion, you’d laugh. Not this time.

“You first,” you look expectantly at him.

He wipes his nose once, leaning forward to rest both elbows on his knees. Doesn’t look at you when he speaks, his gaze glued to the black TV screen ahead despite you watching his every move.

There’s a prolonged silence before he finally speaks.

“I was thinkin’ of movin’ out.”

He turns his head to finally look at you.

You wonder what he sees on your face, because you don’t know what emotions are running through you right now.

Surprise, because you aren’t sure what to expect, but it definitely isn’t that. Doubt, because this whole thing is set up like a prank, except he won’t joke about this. Logan is straightforward, not needlessly cruel.

Most of all, you feel confused.

Did you get the signals mixed somewhere along the way?

The world sinks slowly beneath your feet, like your reality has been a poorly constructed sandcastle all along. Feet slipping, grains parting as you drop further downwards.

Maybe he wasn’t as comfortable as you thought he was, living with you. Maybe he didn’t like having to help you wrestle with wrenches and bolts. Maybe he only approved of the fried rice you made, and that asking him to taste test your other dishes got him annoyed. Did he really like the fried rice, or was he just trying to make you feel better about cooking?

Maybe you misread his sharing past stories as a sign of openness.

Maybe in showing him pieces of yourself you'd never shown anyone else, you created pressure instead of safety.

Maybe you hovered too close. Pushed too far.

You hear a voice from the past. Nameless, faceless, an amalgam of a few persons you no longer keep around.

You need to lay off. You’re a bit much.

God, you know you get things wrong sometimes, but this? You feel sick, the ice-cold realization submerging you.

What if you projected so much of your infatuation towards him that your rose-tinted glasses made you blind? What if, this entire time, you didn’t see him at all?

You’re the one to break eye contact, looking down at your lap. From your periphery, you can see his hands tightening around his knees like he’s holding something back.

He continues to speak, voice measured, slightly apologetic.

“Was thinkin’ I needed privacy after all, now that I can actually afford it,” he rasps.

“Space. Just for myself. Less awkward if I… have some company over.”

Something in you cracks.

You catch yourself just before breaking in the only way you can.

He watches as you look up at him, a smile on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I understand. I appreciate you telling me in advance,” you reply, voice level. “Do you, um, know when you’re gonna move? I need time to find a new roommate.”

“Not sure, Wade and I got this mission that’ll last for a while. I’ll look around after.”

You nod. It’s quiet for a while.

“I’ll help you look, then.”

He nods this time, voice quiet.

“Thanks.”

You get up.

“Shower’s all yours. Good night, Logan.”

“...Night.”

He watches as you turn, disappearing down the hallway, your bedroom door clicking shut.

Hands clench around the fabric of his pants so tight, his knuckles turn white. He exhales, but there’s no relief. Instead, the pain intensifies, jagged wires constricting his chest and digging into his skin.

Fuck, he doesn’t know why he said that. That part about company, as if you didn’t already have him wrapped around your finger, as if you hadn’t been the best person to be around, as if he wanted someone else.

Felt like cutting his tongue off the moment the words escaped him. He hates it, he fucking hates it.

Hates the look on your face, trying to be calm and considerate of him. You didn’t even ask why and he lied to you, only to watch you mask the hurt like he couldn’t see through it. He can, he has a feeling you know he can. Instead, he watches you slip back to the past, like this was your first conversation with him.

Polite.

Like whatever the two of you shared this past two months didn’t exist in the first place.

Logan ignores the pained caterwauling in his chest. His breath won’t go down his throat, tortured and stuck.

Absentmindedly, his feet take him to the hallway, gaze lingering at your bedroom door.

It’s dead quiet, his enhanced senses picking up nothing. Somehow he thinks it’s worse than hearing you cry.

He swallows before retreating into his own room.

It was the right thing to do.

So why does it feel like he’s still drowning even after it’s done?

taglist: @squishyfruitloop @britttzy267 @tezooks @ddwnghead @dear-detested @duckyyyx @hits-different-cause-its-you @mrfitzdarcyslover @snowlycanroc @teresas-lisbon

#an independent woman #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #x men #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine smut

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rori-is-writing · 1 day ago

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Conflict of Interest

A The Pitt Drabble Series.

Drabbles | Teen | Dr. Robby x Nurse!Reader | 669 words ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Summary: An unwanted visitor walks into your E.R. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tags: Angst, Doctors Behaving Badly, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Nurse!Reader

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

[ A/N: Yes, this is longer than 500 words and I'm technically breaking my own rules about what a drabble is but this idea hit me like a freight train the other day and I couldn't not write it. So shhhhhhhhh. ]

You have always been a standout nurse. A tough nurse. You’ve been hit, pushed, spat on, and groped and all of it you’ve taken in stride and continued on like some stoic Buddhist warrior.

But not today.

Because today…he came in.

The moment you walk into the room and see his face it’s like you’re an animatronic that had glitched mid-loop. Your skin feels hot. Your heart thunders in your ears. Your brain goes all staticky.

“Oh would you look at that!” The older man says with a delighted smile. “I didn’t know you worked here sweetheart—“

But you don’t hear the rest because you’re already backpedaling out of the room and back into the hallway.

You can feel your skin tingling like thousands of tiny spiders are skittering over it. You want to throw up. To cry. To run out of this hospital and never return. Instead, for possibly the first time in your entire career, you march up to Dana at the nurse’s station and say, “I need someone to switch patients with me.”

Dana frowns.

“Excuse me?”

“I need a different patient. Any patient. I’ll even take Princess’s fecal impaction.”

“You will?!” Princess gasped hopefully. Nobody ever wanted the fecal impaction cases.

“Why do you need a different patient? What’s wrong with him?”

You swallow. “He’s my uncle.”

If anything, Dana looks even more confused. “I know nobody is supposed to treat their family and friends but you know nobody here is going to rat you out to admin if you decide to do it anyway right?”

But you’re already shaking your head. “That’s not why. I just…I can’t treat him. Please get someone else to do it.” And then, without another word you walk away, heading straight for the hallway that leads to the stairwell.

You need some air.

Now.

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Santos finds you. You stare up at her from your perch on the bottom steps, waiting for her to tell you to get back to work. That you’re pathetic for hiding back here instead of just doing your damn job and treating the harmless old man like you’re supposed to.

Instead, she surprises you.

“He did something to you.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t have to. It’s written all over your face.

Her lips thin.

“I thought so.”

You glance away, wringing your hands to keep them from shaking.

“Want me to take him?”

You blink.

“…What?”

“As a patient. I’ll take him.”

Your eyes blink even faster. Did…did you hear her right? “But…why?”

“Because you need someone to be mean to him. And I’m amazing at mean.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or throw your arms around her in an embrace.

“Okay,” you croak instead. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She said, strangely kind, before a glimmer appears in her eye. “So…how mean we talking?”

You can’t help but laugh, a strangled, pitiful sound if you ever heard one. “Mean enough that he never comes back here again?”

This time, she smiles.

“You got it.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It’s only later—when you’re finally off the clock and indulging in a greasy, well-deserved dinner with Robby—that you hear what happened.

“Do you know anything about the patient we had today who stormed out of the E.R.?”

“Oh?” You say casually, knowing immediately who he’s talking about. You hadn’t been there to see it—having been assisting with a complicated trauma case at the time—but you’d heard plenty about it afterwards from your fellow gossipy nurses.

“Yeah, apparently Santos decided to do a rectal exam. Even though, according to his symptoms, he had no need of one.” He eyed you carefully. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

“Did she?” You say innocently. “Well, she’s the doctor. She would know better than me.”

He sighed.

“Do I wanna know?”

“Not today,” you tell him as you steal his french fry. “Let’s just…enjoy this. Okay?”

His eyes soften.

“Okay.”

Next Drabble | Drabble Masterlist

Thanks for reading! 💙

#cw: implied childhood abuse #the doctor will see you now #the pitt drabbles #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt #dr robby x reader #michael robinavich x reader #drabble #dr robby #drabbles #michael robinavitch #trinity santos #dr santos

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quintessenceofdust88 · 2 days ago

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Wip Wednesday

I was tagged by the incredible @bidisasterevankinard @laundryandtaxesworld and @owlgirl495 (thank you darlings! ♥) and my brain has been a big tease lately, telling me 'Ohhh you have four wips you wanna work on? Too bad, here's a new one instead.'. So this is the start of a new story that, for now, I have named Sunny days, and it's after season 2. It's an alternate first meeting but I haven't gotten to the meeting part yet lol. I hope you guys like it ♥ (thank you @unhingedangstaddict and @agentpeggycartering for listening to me yap about this idea and help me make it take shape!!) DISCLAIMER: I'm taking medical and legal liberties with this. I've done some research, but I am sure there'll be inaccuracies regarding limb loss and the process for getting a service dog in LA.

For the first few weeks after losing his leg to a crushing accident with a fire truck, Buck's days are stormy and gray. Maybe not on the outside—though he couldn’t really say, since he spends most of his time indoors. First at the hospital after the amputation surgery, then at the rehab center, and finally, after eight long weeks, at the new ground floor apartment Maddie picked out for him, because the loft he'd just rented was no longer an option and he didn't want to go back to anyone's couch.

But inside? It's pouring. Constantly. It rains when phantom pain sears through him at night. It drizzles when he breaks up with Ali, because he knows she won't do it now, even though it's very clear that she wants to, that his is a lot more than what she signed up for.

It positively thunders when he sees the guilt in Bobby's eyes the first time he looks at Buck's stump, the way his captain's voice thickens when he promises Buck's place at the station will be waiting for him even though neither of them knows if he'll ever be able to take it back for now. It howls when Buck lies awake at the rehab center, and then at this alien home that's supposed to be his now, staring at the ceiling, wondering if his life will ever go back to normal. If he’s lost more than just a leg.

It’s a storm in his soul, and he doesn’t know how to send it away.

Until the day his personal sunshine arrives, wagging her tail and blinking up at him with the sweetest golden eyes he’s ever seen. Her name is Sunny, and Buck thinks she might just help him to find joy in life again.

She was a suggestion from Buck's physician when he noticed Buck wasn't really keen on the idea of living with his sister, or anyone else, really. Not when he had just taken the first steps towards having his own place.

"Well, if you're planning to live on your own, you'll need at least some help. Have you considered the idea of a service dog?"

And Buck had jumped into the idea right away. Bobby, who had seen him smile for the first time since the surgery when he was looking at the pictures of dogs in the organization website, had jumped even faster, and he was the one to drive Buck there to choose the best candidate.

Sunny had been right there, a yellow bow clipped to her ear, her golden hair well brushed under a neon 'IN TRAINING' vest, and she had looked at Buck as if she'd been waiting for him all her life. The other dogs were very cute, but to him, there was no question. Sunny was meant to be his.

Np tagging @unhingedangstaddict @agentpeggycartering @dark-alice-lilith @aesthetictarlos @trombonechurchill and whoever else would like to play ♥

#evan buckley #service dog au #sunny days #gabby writes #bucktommy #<- target audience #and eventual ship #wip wednesday

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randomusingsofalovesickgirl · 1 day ago

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EPISODE 05 (PT. 1): TOO MUCH AIN'T ENOUGH

🎶 soft spot by keshi 🎶 too much ain't enough by arthur hill 🎶 i'm yours by alessia cara 🎶 dive by olivia dean

You can’t remember how you ever pulled so many all-nighters back in high school—because right now, you’d trade your soul for a pillow and six uninterrupted hours of sleep.

Tonight’s challenge—the Night Watch— has everyone on edge. There’s a timer that can’t ever hit zero, but no one knows when they’ll be ‘shifted’ to reset it, so sleeping isn’t really an option. Judging by how tired you already feel, you know if the challenge dangles any sleep or caffeine temptations in front of you tonight, you’ll cave in a heartbeat.

George and Jason were up first, and you trust them completely. So while you’re confident they’ll nail any challenge and resist temptation, you can’t help but wonder what they’re actually up to out there.

“I so need an energy drink right now,” PK groans for what feels like the hundredth time.

Eventually, everyone caves and tells him to just get one. Of course, half the group tags along for their own fix — so you can only pray the prize fund doesn’t drop as badly as it did yesterday.

That leaves you and Milli sprawled on the hallway loveseat, while Cinna and DDG keep themselves awake with endless table tennis in the living room.

Milli pokes your arm, her legs draped across your lap. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

You yawn. “Probably the Charity Match.”

She glances around dramatically—almost conspiratorially—then scoots closer. She’s clearly been dying to bring this up. “So. You two seem… cosy.”

You try, weakly, to change the subject. “Do you reckon it’s too late to—”

“Nope,” Milli cuts in, eyes gleaming. “You’re not dodging this. Spill.”

Mental note: tell George you told Milli. But honestly, you know it’s fine. He was the first to tell her everything anyway.

So you spill. Everything—from sneaking onto the rooftop to crawling back into bed. By the end, Milli squeals and nearly falls off the loveseat.

“That’s why you’ve been so lovey-dovey!” She whacks you with a throw pillow in delight.

“Shh! Is it that obvious?” you hiss, face burning. “Can we not—”

She just shakes her head, grinning like the devil she is. “Not obvious. Just… different. I don’t think anyone else notices. But we are not changing the topic. This is gold.”

You groan and tip your head back.

“You two are so cute.” She pokes your shoulder. Her voice softens. “But… are you okay? How do you feel about all this?”

You fiddle with the squiggly pink stress ball in your lap. “I don’t know. We want to try. But we’re trying to keep it private with, well—” You wave a hand at the cameras. “All this. It’s not exactly the place for normal… or to give it a fair shot.”

Milli hums thoughtfully, then pulls you into a tight hug. “You two will be fine. He’s been obsessed with you since way before you two fucked.”

You freeze. “Don’t say it like that,” you mumble, burying your face into a cushion.

She cackles. “What else should I call it? You did!”

Now you’re mortified, but giggling, too. “Can you not—at least call it something else? It sounds so—”

Milli lifts an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “You two… canoodled.”

Your dramatic groan of “I hate you” only makes her laugh harder as she hugs you tighter. “You love me. But you love him more. And he loves you most.”

Before you can even argue—because love is a big word and now you’re not even sure you can say it to him anymore (even after all your careless, platonic ‘I love you’s over the years)—two voices holler from the challenge room, charging down the hallway in search of the next unlucky pair.

“Whitney! Mya!”

Jason and George blur past you, their shouts instantly sending Whitney and Mya sprinting off, even though you have no idea where they were hiding before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sorry, I’m stealing her today,” Milli practically sang, refusing to move her legs from your lap as George approached the loveseat.

“That’s fine by me.” George shrugged, his grin unfading as he perched on the armrest just behind you. He probably guessed that Milli knew everything by now, but you were still caught off guard when he pressed an unmistakably obvious kiss to the top of your head.

Milli’s grin turned downright wicked when your cheeks slowly flushed—and even wider when George leaned in for a quick peck on your lips as you turned to face him.

“Hi, darling,” George winked, voice dripping with cockiness. But before you could answer, Jason, Cinna, DDG, and PK tumbled in, loudly dissecting what had just gone down in the challenge room.

So instead, you shot George a playful glare and instinctively rested the back of your head against his thigh. His arm slipped around your shoulders, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your skin—grounding you, comforting you amidst the chaos. You caught Milli smirking beside you.

“What did you two get up to?” Cinna asked, tilting her chin towards George and Jason, as she pried about what being on Night Shift actually entails.

Jason replied, trying to sound serious, “We didn’t have a temptation. We just talked about women. Name a hundred women in four minutes.”

You flicked your eyebrows up at George, who brushed off Jason’s comment with a joke. “Just blokes being blokes, talking about girls.”

“Did you mention any of us?” Cinna pressed, her grin sharp.

Jason pointed straight at you. “First name out of George’s mouth was hers.” He nodded toward you—and as his eyes flicked over you two curled up together, it all dawned on him. It didn’t hurt that he’d half-interrogated George during the task, anyway.

At the confession, George went pink.

“Sweet,” you teased, although you lifted your head from George’s lap to dodge any more suspicious looks—and to steer the spotlight away from you both. “I wonder what the next challenges will be like.”

PK snorted. “Oh, they’ll be evil. Bet on it.”

Cinna elbowed him. “It’s only evil because you’d fall for anything.”

PK groaned dramatically, collapsing onto the other loveseat facing you and Milli. “Well, right now, I’m just tempted by sleep.”

Jason dropped onto an empty beanbag, eyeing PK like he was a ticking time bomb. “So we all agree we’re losing money the second PK’s on shift?”

A chorus of mocking agreement and laughter rippled through the hallway as Cinna flopped down beside Jason. PK muttered, “No faith, no faith.”

Cinna clapped her hands, getting everyone’s attention. “Nobody lies down! The second you do, you’re out—and then we all pay for it.”

PK scowled but grudgingly sat up straight. “Yes, Mum.”

Jason flicked PK’s foot. “Drink your Coke and hush.”

Cinna squinted at you and George, eyes narrowing mischievously. “You two look suspiciously cosy. One of you will knock out first. Guaranteed.”

You didn’t hesitate. You jabbed a finger at George. “Him. Absolute deadweight once he’s lying down.”

George raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “Me? Never.”

Jason perked up, eyes glinting with mischief. Permission granted to doodle on the first sleeper?”

You leaned back against George’s leg again, smirking up at him. “Just hope the marker sticks through the puddle of drool.”

The group roared with laughter as George slapped a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oi! I’m a very elegant sleeper, thank you very much.”

You pressed against his knee with your hand. “You drooled on my arm last night, elegant my arse.” (He hadn’t—but his jokingly offended face made the lie worth it.)

Milli shrieked, laughing, “Expose him!”

George bent down, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper—but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Careful, or I’ll tell them what you do when you sleep.”

Your eyes widened in horror, leaning into the bit. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Jason perked up, intrigued and gossip hungry. “Wait, wait, wait, what’s her sleep habit?”

George’s smirk was diabolical. “She—”

You slapped your hand over his mouth, half laughing, half dying inside, unsure what George would come up with. “Nope! Lies! Unnecessary! Moving on.”

He mumbled something into your palm, chuckling and then licked your palm. You squealed as PK deadpanned, “Swear to God, whatever this tension is, it’s keeping the whole house awake. Just shag and be done with it.”

Milli hurled a pillow at PK’s head—and for that, you silently vowed to owe her for life.

“Shut up!” she barked. “Focus—we’re playing a game so nobody here falls asleep.”

Cinna shot her hand up like an eager schoolkid. “I nominate Twenty Questions!”

Everyone groaned and grumbled at the ‘childish’ game, but agreed. George’s voice is sickeningly sweet, “Ladies first, lov— mate.” He caught himself at the last second. “On a scale of one to ten, how annoying am I?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, a ten. No question. I absolutely despise you.”

He squeezed your shoulder, smug and unbothered, and winked. “No, you don’t. You just haven’t had enough of me yet.”

And, truth be told—you really hadn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since George returned from his first shift, you’ve been stuck to him like glue.

The group game dissolved the moment PK was called for his shift; everyone scattering and rotating in and out, some pacing the halls to kill time, some sneaking over priced snacks from the shop, some slipping away to nap and pray they don’t get caught. But George didn’t stray from you. He never has. He clings to you as if once he goes, the fragile little bubble you created will pop.

Now, five shifts in, two things have already drained your prize money. One: PK’s solo shift. Although he insists that he didn’t cave into the barbershop temptation, you can’t fully believe him–even though you desperately want to. He hasn’t earned that trust yet. The second was Whitney and Mya missing the shift change notification altogether, leaving Cinna and Milli scrambling to their positions, officially bringing the timer to zero for the first time.

Since then, you and George have somehow migrated to an allegedly noncompetitive game of table tennis.

“To eleven?” You clarify, as George bounces in celebration of his tenth point.

George’s grin is downright wicked as he gets ready to serve the ball. Within seconds, the sharp smack of the paddle launching the ball towards you bounced off the walls. It skims past you before you can even blink.

Sure, the other games you guys were playing in the group were much fairer–especially since George has skilled up in table tennis since being here, having challenged everyone into one-on-one matches by now. But nothing made you happier than seeing George light up like this, with his smug little smile and little victory dance that always makes you giggle, no matter how many times you see it.

“You know,” you say, scooping up the ball from where it bounced under the table–your official defeat, sealed. “You’re very lucky Jason fell asleep first.”

“Mmm?” George hums, sauntering over. Your back bumps the table edge and your breath catches as he cages you in, hands resting on either side. “Why’s that?”

“I would’ve drawn all over you,” you tease, voice unsteady with how close he suddenly feels. It feels foolish with how easy he makes you feel flustered.

“Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What would you have drawn, huh?”

You both know what’s coming—he sees it in the guilty little twist of your lips, the gleam in your eye when you’re about to say something ridiculous.

“A cock,” you deadpan—in perfect sync with him. The moment hangs for a heartbeat before you both crack up. You fold forward, laughter muffled into his shoulder.

He wraps you up instantly. And you feel foolish with how fast you sink into it. Right now, he’s not shy about being soft with you. Everyone’s scattered, and the only people who might catch you are Milli and Cinna, who already know about it all and he’s assuming they’re too busy chatting to monitor the security camera.

“I would’ve given you a moustache,” he murmurs against your temple, then plants a dramatic, smacking kiss on the side of your head.

The hum of the cameras and murmurs fade into a distant buzz, leaving only the steady rhythm of your breaths in sync. For a moment, it’s just you and him; no producers, no cameras, no audience. Just the bubble you built and how easy it feels to hide here with him.

Since knowing him, he’s always been your refuge. At first just your best friend—the one who brought you medicine when you were sick, stayed up when you couldn’t sleep, sent you memes just to make you smile.

For so long, that was enough. But now, he’s still that safe place… and something so much more. And for the first time since you admitted it to each other, you’ve let yourself fully believe he wants this just as much as you do—even if some part of you thinks this is too good to be true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Mya and DDG came bursting out of the challenge room, hollering your names with guilty looks plastered across their faces, you were about eighty percent sure they’d taken their temptation. Their lateness and those too-wide grins gave it away. But you didn’t dwell on it—there was no use in getting distracted now.

It was your first shift, and you couldn’t risk being late. Not after all the hits to the prize fund already, now including Jason failing his solo challenge, and now their obvious slip.

So, you and George shot up from the beanbags you’d been sitting with Farah, Milli, and Cinna, and sprinted towards the challenge rooms. You silently thanked George for insisting you sit close by, predicting that you’d probably be shifted soon. (And of course, he was right.)

George punched in the code just before the timer hit zero while you pulled on one of the security vests. You sank into the chair, scanning the wall of monitors: every corner of Inside laid bare on cheap CCTV feeds. It was basically a fact of the show that the cameras were always there, the microphones were always recording–after all, it’s what you signed up for. But seeing everything all at once in front you felt exposing, almost violating.

For a moment, the only sound was the low hum of the monitors.

“So, just us, huh?” George smirked, sliding his hands behind your chair. He gripped the armrests, tugging you closer until your knees were slotted between his. His blue eyes flicked to your mouth, lingering like he couldn’t help it. “No cameras, no eyes…”

You glanced around all the security footage on the screen: capturing Mya and Whitney at the shops, Jason napping, Milli and Cinna gossiping. It was a brazen reminder of the fact you were getting filmed, in every room, even here.

“We’re definitely being watched,” you snorted softly, motioning towards the cameras aimed at you to film the challenge.

He waved it off. “We’ll ask the lads to edit it out later.”

Maybe George himself was your real temptation.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in and kissed him—just a soft, fleeting press. His hand found your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek like he was memorizing it, and the kiss deepened without warning—hungry, warm, reckless for just a breath longer than it should have been.

When you pulled away, his eyes were right there–sharp blue, locked on you with a soft smile playing at his mouth. You smiled back, and had to fight back the desire to lean in once more–to get one more taste, to let yourself fall completely.

You almost did. But your gaze flicked to the blinking monitors—red lights, a thousand eyes—and the moment shrank back into your chest, tucked away for later. If everything goes well, you’ll have the outside—maybe the rest of your lives—for that.

Suddenly, the monitor beeped to life, tearing you both back to reality. A shelf popped open simultaneously.

“Blindfolded Obstacles,” George read aloud, voice low but amused. “You two have been close friends for years now,” He side-eyed you, a teasing glint in his blue eyes. He paused for an effect, leaning closer so only you could hear: “Bit of an understatement, yeah?”

You tried not to smile, but failed.

“It’s time to put your communication to the test,” He continued reading. You both exchanged a glance—recently, communication hadn’t been your strongest suit. “One of you will be blindfolded, and the other must guide them through the obstacle course using only verbal directions. You can’t leave the room until you grab the key from the other side, and the timer won’t continue until you do the challenge.”

You swallowed, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves mixed with anticipation. The challenge felt personal, almost like a test of everything simmering between you two. And you can’t get out of this room until you do this challenge.

“Do you want to be blindfolded or me?” George asked softly, taking the blindfold from the shelf that popped open. Written on the black fabric was Inside, and the instruction to put it on before you leave the security room.

Wordlessly, you reached out for it–knowing you weren’t the best talker. He chuckled, “So, you trust me, yeah?”

You nodded. You might doubt a lot of things in this house, but him? You’d trust with the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After barely completing the task (with more laughter and bickering than actual strategy), you caught PK’s name flickering on the monitor just in time. The two of you sprinted out the room, calling for him and trying to find where on the Inside he could be located.

The second PK stood up from the beanbag he’d been dozing on to relieve you from your shift, you and George turned to look at each other and both let out a breath you hadn't realised you were holding. Neither of you spoke, just exchanged a look that said: thank god that’s over.

Silently, you decided to slip away from the buzz of the living room, saying goodbye to Whitney and Mya who sat near the sleeping PK. Instead, you moved to the bedroom area–the one space everyone was avoiding so they wouldn’t accidentally fall into deep sleep and cost the group more money.

Here, the muffled chatter and laughter faded behind closed doors. All you could hear was the hum of the air conditioner and your own heartbeat slowing back to normal.

George dropped down onto the bed you two unofficially shared, excusing the fact you haven’t separated your beds yet to being ‘too lazy’. He leaned back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, and tugged you down beside him without a word.

You melted into his side instantly, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you closer until your head settled on his collarbone. He felt warm, as he always had. You breathed him in: leftover cologne, a fruity body soap, and sweet shampoo from the quick shower he’d taken earlier in the day.

And it struck you. The two of you have been in similar positions hundreds of times, but friend’s don’t do this. Maybe you two had never really ever been just friends at all.

“I’m knackered,” George murmured, voice rasped. He laced his fingers through yours where your hand rested on your thigh, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your palm.

You chuckled, nudging his ankle with your foot. “Big words from the man who spent half that challenge looking unbearably smug.”

He turned to face you, his lips moving against the side of your face, revealing a small grin. “Funny—coming from someone who couldn’t even see my face.”

“George. I know every version of that face by now.”

He laughed under his breath, the sound vibrating in his chest where your cheek now rested. “I can’t wait to get out of here,” he whispered, voice suddenly softer. “Just… back to normal. Or, well, whatever our new version of normal is gonna be. Watching shitty movies on your couch, our monthly pub nights, stealing your food, winding the lads up, a drive-through run at three in the morning. No cameras. No alarms. Just us. Can’t wait to have you to myself out there, to have you be mine, and to be just us.”

Your heart flipped at how easy he made it sound. Just us. Like it was always meant to be.

“That sounds perfect,” you breathed, eyes half-closed, sleep feeling so tempting right now.

He chuckled, brushing his lips against your temple. “Though, I’ll kinda miss the excuse to ignore my phone for days.”

A small laugh escaped you. “We can make it a thing. A date. Once a month—no phones, no distractions.” The word date still tasted new on your tongue, like it didn’t quite fit you two yet—but George’s grin told you he didn’t mind at all.

“Deal.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Silence settled over you both then. Not heavy or suffocating, but the kind that comes when you’re so close and so sure of someone.

His hand found yours again, your fingers instinctively interlocking. You could feel sleep tugging at you, warmth pooling in your chest at how easy it felt to rest like this—like it had always been this simple.

And you wished— fiercely, foolishly, maybe even hopelessly—that life would never dare make it more complicated than this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When PK called only you into the challenge, you thought that the solo night shift might actually be a break–a chance to breathe, to decompress, to finally gather all your thoughts.

But it’s harder than you expected. Not because you’re tired, but because of the silence.

No George. No banter. No one to keep you from spiraling. Just you, the hum of the monitors, and your voice echoing into the quiet—narrating bite-sized thoughts for whatever poor soul ends up watching this later on Netflix.

And the waiting. God, the waiting.

PK and Jason’s solo shift sounded like they were thrown into a challenge almost immediately. Yours, however, has so far been a long, slow wait. Almost as if production forgot about you. Or worse, like they’re stalling. Debating whether to give you a task. Testing how long they can let your thoughts unravel before stepping in.

So, you sat there, spinning in your chair–watching the scattered corners of Insider across the various CCTV feeds, trying to desperately fight off sleep.

You catch a glimpse of PK and Whitney sneaking off to the shop for sweets. But your gaze lingers on one feed: George, still exactly where you left him. He’s sitting with Milli, Cinna, Jason, and Farah—his arm resting loosely over the empty space where you were. His posture is tired, soft, like how he always is when it’s just the two of you. You felt a pang in your chest as you wished you could just go to him and curl up next to him, with no audience.

And it hits you.

You’re in a relationship with George.

Like… an actual relationship. How’s it all going to change?

It doesn’t feel official, not really—not with all the cameras and challenges and prize money hanging over your heads. You haven’t had the chance to settle into it. To just be together. But still, it’s real. And it makes your chest tighten in a way that’s both sweet and painful.

You watch him rise, smile easy and familiar, tugging Milli toward the table tennis table. He’s obsessed with that thing. You can’t help but smile too, the grin on his face being infectious even through the shitty CCTV.

A loud buzz soon shatters the silence.

Your name flashes across the monitor in bold, urgent letters.

TEMPTATION

The screen glitches—static crackling through the speakers—before cutting to footage you’ve never seen. Not from tonight. Earlier, maybe. The vanity room. George. Milli. Cinna.

George slumped forward, voice heavy and low. Tired. “I messed up.”

Your heart sank. What was he talking about?

“So, you regret it?” Cinna’s voice was serious, probing.

You stare at the screen, frozen. This has to be edited. Spliced. Manipulated. Maybe the producers cut it to look worse than it was—standard reality TV drama. But… this is Sidemen. They wouldn’t do that to you and George. Right?

“It wasn’t worth it.” George admitted quietly, his voice barely audible on the microphone. “Maybe we made a massive mistake. And it’s so frustrating how she always just…runs away. You know what, if I could go back in time, I'd undo that night.” Milli shifts beside him. Her voice breaks. “George–,”

The screen goes black.

Your breath catches. Your whole body stills.

You know how reality TV works. You know how easy it is to twist things, to stitch together sentences out of context. But knowing doesn’t stop the words from sinking like stone.

It wasn’t worth it. He said. He’d undo that night.

You try to breathe. To find something to anchor to. But it’s always been George, or well, at least it felt like it.

George has always been the thing that steadied you. The one constant.

You can’t even remember what you did before you knew him. How your life was like before he came into your life.

So your chest aches, your head spins, and you try to deny that George didn’t say those words.

But it was. You could see him clearly on the screen. Caught in 4k. Or well, shitty CCTV.

Did you trust him blindly? How could you have let yourself fall so foolishly?

Not after everything.

Was that real? Or was this? Maybe he changed his mind.

The screen flashes again, merciless.

TEMPTATION — HEAR THE FULL CONVERSATION FOR 30K

Your throat tightens. You could listen. You could get the whole story.

But what if the rest hurts more than this already does?

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you do always run. Maybe that’s the only way to protect yourself from getting crushed like this again.

You stare at the screen a second longer, then shut your eyes.

You don’t need to hear more.

You’ve already heard too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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lightsoutmatthews · 1 day ago

Note

willy just posted new pics from cannes on his insta and it gave me an idea! can you do willy x reader at some fancy event and the alllll the ladies keep coming up to will, so reader starts to feel really insecure/not enough. but sweet sweet willy is so loyal and so in love with reader and wants to show her that. thanks chica <3333

Those pictures made me go all 😵‍💫

There´s only you – William Nylander

You stood in front of the hotel mirror, adjusting the strap of your dress for the third time in probably as many minutes.

It wasn’t that it didn’t fit, it did, perfectly actually. You had gone shopping a week ago just to find something perfect for tonight.

A sleek, dark navy gown with a slit up the side, elegant but not too showy. Subtle jewelry, hair done up just the way you liked. You looked nice, good, even.

Unfortunately, good didn’t seem like enough for tonight.

Tonight, you were going to a red-carpet charity gala in Toronto on the arm of Leafs winger William Nylander.

You had been dating for a while at this point, but it would be the first time you would accompany him to such an event.

William was adjusting his cufflinks nearby, looking completely at ease in the tailored black tux.

You caught his reflection in the mirror. His blonde hair was slicked back, his jawline sharp and eyes bright. He looked like a movie star.

He was famous after all, but it was more than that. He glowed in places like this.

You felt lucky but at the same time incredibly nervous.

“You ready, älskling?” he asked, smiling at you in the mirror.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Let´s do this.”

-------------

The venue was stunning. All marble floors, hanging chandeliers and tall windows overlooking the Toronto skyline.

Cameras flashed as you and William stepped out of the car. He held your hand the whole time, even as the mass of reporters shouted his name.

“William! Over here!”

“William, who are you wearing?”

“Is this your girlfriend?”

You clung to his side, eyes darting everywhere.

He leaned down, whispering softly against your ear as he sensed your unease, “You´re doing great.”

The moment you got inside, though, the swam began.

First, it was a group of women, models, maybe, with perfect hair and bright red lips. They recognized him immediately.

“Willy! Oh my God, I didn’t know you would be here tonight!” one of them almost shouted, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

She didn’t even spare you a glance.

Another one giggled, resting a hand on his arm. “I swear you get more handsome every year.”

You laughed politely, stepping a little closer to him. he didn’t move away, but he didn’t say much either, just gave them that soft, easy smile he used in public.

That professional smile you saw him spot many times before.

More women joined throughout the night. Models. Other attendees wives. Influencers. All gorgeous, all confident, all dressed to kill.

And every time they looked straight at William and barely at you. Some didn’t even hide they scanned him from head to toe.

It was starting to bother you, but you didn’t want to be that girlfriend. The clingy, insecure one. So, you smiled, sipped champagne and stayed close but not too close.

But your chest was getting tighter by the minute.

You started comparing.

You dress wasn’t as bold. You shoes weren’t as high. You didn’t have that high-society polish that they all seemed to carry effortlessly.

The way they walked, talked and flirted, it was like they belonged here, and you were just someone tagging along.

At one point, while William was chatting with a group of other Toronto athletes, you stepped away to the restroom.

You needed a break.

Your cheeks were hot, and not from the champagne or the warmth inside the building.

Why did you feel so small? You were the one here with him after all.

You knew William loved you. He told you all the time, but here, tonight, he fit so well in this world of flashing lights and glamorous women.

You couldn’t stop wondering, what if someday he realized he wanted someone more like them?

You swallowed the lump in your throat and pressed your lips together, trying to shake it off. He hadn’t done anything to even give you remotely the impression that he would.

You just needed a second to breathe.

--------------

When you came back out, you saw him standing near the bar. A tall blonde was leaning in close to him, hand resting lightly on his chest as she laughed at something he said.

It punched you in the stomach immediately.

You turned back towards the hallway and ducked outside to the balcony. It was quieter out there, the city lights glittering below.

You leaned against the stone railing and took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around yourself even though it wasn’t that cold tonight.

You didn’t cry, but the tears picked at the corner of your eyes.

You heard the door slide open behind you a few minutes after initially stepping out.

“Hey,” William said softly.

You didn’t turn around right away, the sound of his voice making the tears threaten to fall any second.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just needed some air.”

“I noticed,” he said, coming up beside you now. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated for a second. Debating to tell him the truth.

“I´m fine,” you lied instead. “Just a little overwhelmed with it all.”

William watched you for a second after that. “Something is wrong,” he pointed out.

You looked up at him finally and that was when your voice cracked. “I don’t fit in here, Will. I feel like I´m just standing in the background while all these girls throw themselves at you.”

His expression fell instantly. “What?”

“They´re all so confident and glamorous and they look like they belong with someone like you. Meanwhile I´m just me.”

He was quiet for a beat, his brow furrowing. Then he reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Älskling” he mumbled, the Swedish term of endearment sending shivers down your spine. “You´re the only person I see in a room like this.”

You scoffed a little, not because you didn’t want to believe him, but because it felt too good to be true.

“I´m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “You think I care about them or that any of them matter to me?”

You looked down. “I know you don’t mean to make me feel this way, but when they look at you like that, it just…it gets in my head. I start wondering if I´m good enough.”

Williams hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up. “You are good enough. You´re more than enough and you´re everything to me.”

Your eyes burned.

“They don’t know me,” he said gently. “But you do. You know the dumb stuff I watch when I´m sick, the way I get grumpy when I haven’t eaten. You´ve seen me at my worst and still love me. That means more than some girl laughing at my jokes for five minutes.”

You swallowed hard. “But they´re all so…”

“Älskling,” he interrupted you softly. “I don’t want them. I want you. Always.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, slow and sure. His hand stayed on your waist, grounding you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I know I don’t say this nearly enough,” he murmured. “But I love you. Not because you came here with me tonight or because you look amazing in that dress…which you do by the way. But because you´re you and nothing any of them say or do is ever gonna change that.”

You blinked quickly, trying to keep your tears from falling. “Do you really mean that?” you asked quietly.

“I swear on every hair product in the bathroom,” he laughed, and you joined in a second later.

He smiled at the sound. “Are you coming back inside?”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly.

He took your hand again, and this time, you didn’t feel like you were trailing behind him. You felt like you were right where you belonged.

-------------

Inside, the event was still in full swing, but William didn’t drift back into the crowd.

Instead, he led you to one of the cocktail tables off to the side, ordered you a drink and sat beside you with his arm around your shoulder.

When people came up to him, he smiled, but he didn’t entertain them for long.

When another woman approached with that flirty tone, he didn’t give her the polite brush-off. He simply turned to you and kissed your cheek.

It was a small thing, but in that moment it felt big.

You saw the woman blink, then glance between the two of you before she smiled politely and excused herself.

William leaned into you. “Better?”

You leaned into him, heart full. “Much.”

--------------

Back in your hotel room later that night, everything felt quieter and softer, like the tension of the evening had finally melted away, leaving just you and William, as you were meant to be.

You kicked off your heels the second the door closed, groaning in relief. “My feet are killing me.”

William chuckled and dropped the room key on the table. “You looked incredible, though.”

You gave him a look. “My toes are genuinely numb. I think beauty might actually be pain.”

He laughed in acknowledgement while he was already slipping off his tuxedo jacket and loosening his tie. “Do you need help with the dress?”

You turned around without answering and he unzipped it slowly, carefully, almost sensually.

His fingers brushed the bare skin of your back, lingering just a little longer than necessary.

You didn’t stop him.

Once free, you let the dress fall to the floor and stepped out of it, his glaze roaming over your body until you tugged on the hotel robe.

William toed off his shoes and changed into sweats and a shirt while you whipped off our makeup and tossed your jewelry on the nightstand.

Finally, the two of you ended up on the bed. Him stretched out, you curled into his side with your legs draped over his.

You felt warm, safe and exhausted.

William pulled the blanket over you both, one hand resting on your thigh, the other scrolling through photos on his phone.

“Look at this one,” he said, holding up a picture of you two from the red carpet. “We look hot together.”

“Speak for yourself,” you laughed.

“Babe,” he groaned in disbelief, setting the phone down. “Don’t make me fight you on this again.”

You buried your face in his chest. “I know. I´m sorry. I just… it was a lot tonight. Seeing how people look at you and how those women flock to you. I just felt like I didn’t measure up…”

He shook his head immediately. “You don’t have to measure up to anyone. You´re not in competition.”

You looked up at him. “It´s hard not to feel like I am in those situations.”

Willima stat up straighter, shifting so you were facing each other fully. “Okay. Listen to me,” he started gently. “I love you. Not you on a red carpet or you in a dress. You. The one who is always honest with me and weird and overthinks everything while trying to be chill even when you´re clearly not. I love every part of that.”

Your eyes prickled again, but you smiled.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know I´m used to this stuff. The events and the attention and the cameras, but I don’t care about that stuff. The second you walked away tonight; I couldn’t focus on anything else. I was standing there thinking where you went because I didn’t want to do any of it without you.”

You swallowed and then mumbled. “I didn’t want to make it about me.”

“You are it for me,” he said without hesitation. “You´re the best part of my life. These nights don’t mean anything without you in them.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed in the best way.

He reached for your hand, playing with your fingers as he spoke. “I´m never going to let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong. Especially not in a room I´m in.”

After a short pause he continued before you could interject. “You´re mine and I´m yours. That´s it. That’s the whole story.”

“William,” you breathed, voice tight with emotion.

He leaned in and kissed you. Soft, slow and grounding. The kind of kiss that said “I see you and I choose you. Again, and again.”

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours like it had on the balcony earlier in the night.

“You´re the only one I want to come home to. After a shitty practice or a bad game, after a long road trip or just dinner with the guys, for as long as you will have me.”

You blinked fast, but the tears slipped out anyway.

You let out a quiet laugh. “God, I´m a mess tonight.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “You´re my mess.”

You curled tighter into him, heart full in a way that had nothing to do with the champagne or fancy clothes or flashing lights.

It was just him, just the warmth of his body and the quiet of this moment along with the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his life.

This time you believed it. Not because he said it, but because you knew he really meant it.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #william nylander x reader #nhl imagine

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